


The first years

by injerannie94



Series: And the Worm is dead.... [1]
Category: The Hobbit, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone survives, Dwalin is gay but keeps it a secret, F/M, Fili believes in Ones, Kili and Fili have their own kids, Kili gets jealous of Fili, Kili keeps being told to grow up, Kili thinks he may be gay/bisexual, M/M, Myths about soulmates, Post-BOFA, but Kili doesn't, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/injerannie94/pseuds/injerannie94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili believes in Ones. Kili doesn't.</p><p>Post-BOFA story, in which Fili and Kili both find love, but happy endings don't lie in store for everyone. </p><p>Mostly focusing on Kili.</p><p>(I'm rubbish at summaries, lol. Part 1 of hopefully 3 parts!!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Fili Finds Aliyah

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of what will hopefully be a 3-part series
> 
> This story does mainly focus on Kili, even though this chapter is all about Fili. 
> 
> This is my first story, please send me any feedback/comments, positive or negative!!

Fíli first set eyes on her as he stood next to Thorin, welcoming the dwarrows arriving from far and wide to meet their reclaimed homeland. This was the fifth day he and Thorin had stood at the gates of Erebor, two weeks after having retaken the mountain, welcoming the travel-weary dwarrows. He had never seen so many dwarrows in his life, and these were only the Durins folk from the Iron Hills.

 

Dís had arrived three days ago, despite predictions that it would take several months for the dwarrows of Ered Luin to arrive. Her shrieks of uncontained joy as she saw him were matched only by his own. Not even Thorin could contain his glee at being reunited with his sister, and they, Kili and Fili had all embraced for a long time, tears of happiness glistening in every eye. It transpired that she had left as soon as she caught news of a company dwarrows who had narrowly escaped and killed the Great Goblin, and consequently had alit the wrath of his goblins, who were now swarming the hillsides on the  east and west of the mountains. Thorin told her she was lucky to have miraculously not encountered any of them, and that she would undoubtedly have worn her pony into the ground travelling as fast as she had. Dís immediately began berating her brother for not sending word sooner, insisting she would have been useful as a warrior in his army and he needed to get over his over-protectiveness over her.

 

Kíli grinned at Fíli, relaying with his eyes the message _Never thought I’d see the day when I missed Ma’s nagging_ , though at no point did he release his tight hold on her arm.

 

Kíli had taken Dís and the sparse possessions she had brought back with her into Erebor to show her her quarters (“ _Really_ Kíli, you forget that I did grow up here! I remember exactly where my quarters are, thank you very much!”) and Fíli couldn’t help being jealous, wishing he was able to spend time with his mother as Kíli did instead of standing like a piece of furniture by the gates. For Thorin, it was a chance to bump heads with dwarrrows he hadn’t seen for years, catch up on decades of news, and shake hands with descendents and friends alike; for Fíli it was a chance to affix a warm smile to his face, greet each group almost robotically and introduce himself: Fíli Durin, son of Dís, Heir to Erebor. He felt a bit silly in his finery and get-up compared to the dusty homeward-bound dwarrows, achy legs and travel-weary hearts forgotten as they gazed upon the Lonely Mountain.

 

Naturally, much had to be done. In so many years, Smaug had managed to demolish many of the grand public spaces and most of the royal quarters. However, most of the smaller halls, rooms and corridors remained intact, Smaug being too lazy to bother poking his nose anywhere it would not easily fit. They had already began shifting the gold back into the treasury from the Great Hall where the Worm had set up his golden bed and all the dwarrows, from all backgrounds, were contributing to rectifying the architecture he had destroyed in his wrath and carelessness.

 

On this fifth day, Fíli was amusing himself by watching his brother happily making friends. Fíli adjusted his weight on his feet, not wanting to admit they ached with restlessness. He could see Kíli, leading ponies and carrying boxes for weary travellers; making himself useful, Fíli thought ruefully, and he longed to join him – but Fíli had to stand next to Thorin, ceremonially welcoming people at the gate. Fíli knew it was part of his duties as heir of Erebor to stand by his king’s side. Fíli’s heart sank slightly at the weight of the burden of heir, a burden he was only just beginning to realise. When Thorin had named him officially as his heir on his fortieth birthday, with no kingdom and having never seen Erebor it hadn’t seen very real. But with the mountain retaken, Fíli’s duties became much more real and daunting.

 

“I’m so proud of you both,” Thorin confessed to Fíli. Fíli turned and noticed that his uncle had also been following Kíli’s movements fondly. “You have shouldered your role as my heir with great courage and you perform your duties flawlessly. And your brother knows how to be with people. He is happy to hunt, happy to help. He sets a good example.”

 

Heartened, Fíli grinned as his brother accosted a broad, fiery-looking dwarrowdam, her red hair liberally sprinkled with grey streaks, removing the reins of the donkey from her hands and lifting a box out of her arms, taking it upon himself to carry these the rest of the way up the hill himself as he chattered away to her. Behind her followed two younger dwarrowdams; from their hair colour, they could only be her daughters. Coppery waves immediately caught Fíli’s eye as they flashed in the light, and the face of the dwarrowdam they belonged to lit up with wonder as she gazed up at the magnificence of the mountain. 

 

“Welcome,” Thorin said warmly, cutting Kíli off mid-sentence as the group reached the gates.

 

“Thorin!” the older dwarrowdam greeted, and the two grasped forearms and knocked their foreheads together lightly. “Good to see you.”

 

“Likewise, Rinah,” Thorin returned, smiling. “I am glad to see you well and returned to us.”

 

“It is so good to be home, and end this nomadic life we have been living,” she told him. “We made haste as soon as we heard news that the Great Worm had been thwarted at last. I only wish we came in time to help fight. My late husband will surely be turning in his grave that he missed it, and I for sure wish I could have slain a few with my axe!”

 

Thorin gave a smile. “You are just like Dís. I remember how you begged to learn to fight with Frerin and I when we were dwarflings.”

 

Rinah roared merrily at the memory. “These are my daughters,” she introduced the dwarrowdams behind her, but before he could catch either of their names Fíli was distracted by Kíli whispering excitedly in his ear. The girls both bowed respectfully to Thorin and Fíli.

 

“I am Fíli, son of Dís, Heir to the Lonely Mountain,” Fíli introduced himself without needing a prompt from Thorin. He bowed, balancing the perfect degree of majesty with a mutual respect to the dwarrowdam he was bowing to; inside, Thorin swelled with pride.

 

“That’s unusual,” interrupted Kíli, curiosity in his eyes as he looked at the sisters questioningly. “Why don’t your names rhyme? Siblings’ names almost always rhyme, like Kíli and Fíli, and Oin and Gloin, and Ori and D-”

 

“That’s because it’s so rare for sisters to be born to dwarrows,” Fíli interrupted smoothly. “Dwarrowdams are so rare, it is highly uncommon to have more than one – thus often families don’t get the chance to give their daughters rhyming names. Boys on the other hand, are much more common, hence the prevalence of rhyming names – such as our own.” Fíli grinned at his brother. Understanding blossomed on Kíli’s youthful features. One of Rinah’s daughters, the younger by Fíli’s guess, giggled.

 

“We come from a highly fruitful family,” said Rinah proudly. “The family Càh is renowned for our brood and high luck of dwarrowdams. Or were,” she lamented. “Since my siblings’ deaths, I fear our family is dwindling.”

 

“We have all suffered much death,” Thorin agreed quietly.

 

The red-headed girl’s eyes hadn’t left Fíli’s and Fíli tried not to let it unnerve him. Her eyes were beautiful, sparkling and an almost luminous green in colour and he fought the urge to stare back into them, searching them for every fleck of colour and every hidden thought.

 

She tore them away reluctantly as her mother and sister departed, entering the large gates, accompanied by Kíli, still chattering madly and fighting chivalrously with Rinah over who got to lead the donkey. Before she vanished from sight, she glanced over her shoulder, and Fíli didn’t miss the smile she sent him. Then she was gone.

 

Fíli felt giddy. He almost wanted to ask Thorin if he could sit down for a minute, but didn’t want to appear rude or weak. He stayed on his feet, introducing himself automatically, his mind wheeling around one image one person.

 

_That smile._

 

….

 

Kíli, Fíli, Ori and the other younger dwarves were learning lots and fast about life in Erebor before the Great Worm, including the fact that dwarrows liked to celebrate. They had only celebrated the major fests and holidays in the Blue Mountains, like Yuleblot, partially not to make themselves more conspicuous, and also from a lack of resources to celebrate properly. However, Thorin insisted that now he had his kingdom back, he was going to uphold all the traditions. Unbelievably, stickler that he was, this included the Treasures of the Land Fest, that had begun on the day before Durin’s Day.

 

“We still have ten days left to celebrate!” he said after the battle was over, negotiations sorted, and word sent to the scattered dwarves across Middle-Earth.

 

The only problem with this plan was of course – they had no treasures of the land to celebrate. Fíli and Kíli, after Fíli was excused by Thorin of course, went hunting every morning and evening to provide for the nightly feast. They handed their booty over to Bombur, who had taken up position as head chef for the moment, who grumbled that he couldn’t wait til the blasted festival was over. To their dismay, Fíli and Kíli learned that the Treasures of the Land celebrations stretched on for more than two weeks, and it was far from the only festival in the dwarven calendar.

 

“You’ll see!” Thorin told them happily. “Now we have Erebor back, we can return to our old traditions and live as proper dwarves do.”

 

Fíli saw the copper-haired beauty again at the feast that night. The feasts were getting bigger and better with each passing night as more dwarrows arrived, bringing with them more livestock and carrying imports sent by Bard from Laketown to supplement Fíli and Kíli’s contributions. Bard, newly crowned King of Dale, had made it clear that all dwarrows were welcome to rest for a few nights in Laketown on their way to Erebor. Thorin promised to repay his kindness by sending a substantial troop of dwarrows to help rebuild Dale.

 

She had cleaned up after her travels and was dressed modestly. A few pieces of gold jewellery around her neck and wrists were the only signs of her prestigious family. She sat with her mother and sister. He thought of going over to her, but found himself overcome with shyness, something that had never happened before. He tried to catch her eye, and at one point she raised her green eyes to meet his own. She smiled, the same secretive, self-confident smile she had shot over her shoulder at him earlier that day. It was intoxicating, inviting; it drew him in, it seemed to say _Talk to me._

 

By the time he had drank enough to feel courageous enough to go and talk to her, she had gone.

 

……

 

Kíli and Fíli were not above frequenting the local inn for a flirt and a few drinks with the other dwarrows following a tough training session or a long day. Fíli found being around girls both easier and harder than he had done in the Blue Mountains – for one thing, his jokes were getting less and less funny but the girlish giggles he gained for each was growing. Their admiration was palpable, and he could hardly ignore the uncomfortable thought that the fact that he was a prince was strong in their minds. He liked to forget his position sometimes, but the way these girls were looking at him was almost predatory. Fíli used to enjoy the chase, now he found himself getting bored, and his mind wandered ever more often to the girl with red hair. He had not seen her since the feast on the day she arrived and he wondered if he would ever get the chance to ask again her name.

 

Kíli, noticing nothing, simply liked the attention.

 

…..

 

“Kíli, get up! We’re going to be late!”

 

Kíli groaned and buried his face further into his pillow.

 

“Kí _li_!” Fíli threw some clothes over his brother’s inert body. “Fine! But you can take the hiding from Dwalin if you’re late again.”

 

That was what it took to make Kíli leap out of bed and start shoving on his clothes as fast as he could.

 

Because Kíli had overslept, they didn’t have time for breakfast. Grumbling, they left the palace and made their way towards the gates. They took a short cut through the market hall, where every day vendors brought their merchandise. It was a busy day, the air full of clacking and chattering and inviting calls, the enticing smells of fresh bread and worked leather. They found themselves pushing through crowds, but Fíli couldn’t mistake _that_ copper head anywhere.

 

He stopped abruptly.

 

Kíli tugged on his arm. “Oh, what happened to ‘we’ll be late’?” he groused, but Fíli wasn’t listening.

 

“Fíli!” Kíli tried again, yanking his sleeve but Fíli still didn’t budge.

 

“I’ll meet you there,” Fíli said robotically, not taking his eyes off the girl. It was her, yes, definitely her.

 

Kíli appraised him for a second, then sighed dramatically. “We’ll see who’s getting the hiding from Dwalin!” he chanted, and disappeared in the direction of the city gates.

 

Fíli felt himself overwhelmed with shyness again and he cursed himself for his stupidity. How daft, he had to be somewhere and what was he doing? Gawping, yes _gawping,_ at a dam, admittedly the most beautiful dam he’d ever seen, with the most mesmerising eyes…

 

As he thought it, the green-eyed girl turned around. Their eyes met. She held his gaze.

 

And now here I am, staring at her, still too shy to even speak, Fíli  thought crossly, _Aule_ , what is wrong with me?

 

The dam smiled. She was making her way towards him now, and Fíli was still rooted to the spot. _Mahal, help me!_ he pleaded as she came stopped in front of him. She was only a foot away. He thought he could smell her perfume.

 

“I’ve seen you staring,” she said softly. Laughter was dancing in her eyes. _Those eyes…_ “Don’t you know my name?”

 

Mahal was kind to him, and Fíli finally found his voice. “Aliyah,” he replied.

 

She nodded, still smiling. “And you’re Fíli. Son of Dis. Heir of Durin.”

 

He nodded too. Suddenly, staring into her eyes, he was filled with a kind of strength. He felt like with this girl by his side he could accomplish anything. In a second his brain was flinging images at him, he pictured them hand in hand, getting married, her as his queen when he was coroneted King under the Mountain, making him strong, making him whole, making him everything. In barely a second the images were gone, but Fíli  still felt the warmth they had stirred filling his veins, swelling in his heart.

 

Then his hand felt real warmth. He looked down, almost surprised to see she had encased it in one of hers.

 

“Shall we go somewhere?” she suggested softly.

 

Dwalin did give Fíli hell later, but Fíli didn’t care. 


	2. Strange Stirrings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kili has a secret, and also lets his arrogance run away with him

 

“Good Aule above, my brother, in the library. Has Mordor frozen over?”

 

Kíli started violently, snapped shut the book he was reading and covered its with his arm. “ _Mahal_ , Fíli, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

 

Fíli’s eyes sparkled. “Touchy.” He tried to pull Kíli’s arm off the title of the book, but he wouldn’t budge. He raised an eyebrow. “I should have guessed the only reason you would read is if it were something you shouldn’t be reading.”

 

“None of your business!” Kíli forced a laugh, trying to sound lighthearted in the hope it would make Fíli lose interest. “What are you doing here?” he asked, trying to distract him.

 

“Looking for you… although I _really_ didn’t believe mother when she said you’d come in here. We’ll be eating soon, you need to come home to change.”

 

Kíli moaned. “Aw, _why_? Why should I need to put on decent clothes even just in front of my _family_?”

 

Fíli sighed exasperatedly and began perusing the bookshelfs around Kíli. “It’s what Thorin wants, he wants us to behave like proper royalty now. Humour him, won’t you?” He stopped talking as he pulled out a tome, musing its contents.

 

“Doing some research?” Kíli grinned. He flipped the book over. “ _Dwarven Traditions of Wooing and Marriage_? Fíli!”

 

Kíli was expecting his brother to scoff at the book too, put it back and laugh over its ridiculousness. He wasn’t expecting Fíli to blush and trace the gold-embossed title of the book sheepishly, as though looking for words.

 

“Feeeee,” Kíli said, trying to sound stern.

 

“Oh shut up. I… I think I’ve met my One.”

 

Kíli glared at him, half exasperated, half amused. “Do you now?”

 

Fíli’s lips quirked and he glanced at the ground. “Yeah,” he admitted, barely able to hide the broad grin that spread undeniably across his face whenever he thought about Aliyah.

 

Kíli laughed as the blush deepened, creeping down Fíli’s neck. He took advantage of his distraction by tackling Fíli to the floor.

 

“ _Kíli,_ we’re in a library, _get off!”_

 

Kíli, naturally, did no such thing. He settled himself comfortably on his brother’s legs, efficiently pinning him to the floor and grinned again.

 

“Have you asked her to officially start courting you?”

 

“Not – not officially. I don’t really know how,” he admitted. “And it’s risky… I feel about her the way I’ve never felt about anyone before. But… how can you tell if someone feels the same way?”

 

Kíli snorted. “I thought she was your _One_ ,” he retorted witheringly. “If she is, then you’re her One, right? So why are you worrying.”

 

Fíli frowned. “You can have your love for your One be unrequited, you know.”

 

Kíli’s eyes widened. “Well that seems a bit harsh,” he replied, shifting onto Fíli’s thighs, remembering after a few moments how uncomfortable his knobbly knees were. Fíli pushed Kíli off him.

 

“Anyway come down. If you’re late again, Thorin will skin you.”

 

“I’ll be done in a minute. I promise I won’t be long.” Fíli punched his head affectionately, and left.

 

“And don’t think I didn’t notice you taking that revolting book with you!” Kíli called after him. Fíli flipped him a rude hand gesture behind his back and disappeared.

 

Kíli went to retrieve his own book, where it had skidded under a bookshelf when he had jumped Fíli. He blushed as he reread the title – thank goodness Fíli hadn’t caught him reading _that_. He pored over its pages for a few more minutes, before he sighed and shoved it angrily back on the shelf. What use were books when they never told you what you needed to know anyway?

 

His thoughts turned to the dream. It was that dream that had really disturbed him and driven him to the library in the first place. He needed answers, and he’d hoped, in vain, that he would find them here.

 

He hadn’t told anyone about the dream, as it made his ears pink even just to replay it in his own head. He would have to confess that he’d enjoyed it – the sensation of hairy, calloused skin against his own, lips against his own, dragging down his neck, biting at his collarbone, the undeniable tickle of a dwarf’s beard lighting the nerves of his neck and chest.

 

As much as he denied it, Kíli basked in the attentions of anyone and everyone he could allure. He enjoyed the chase, as his brother used to, before he started spending all his time with that confounded redhead. He shared bawdy, dirty jokes with dams and dwarves alike, and he hadn’t thought anything more of it until the dream.

 

He had woken, hot and hard, boiling with desire – but not for a dam. He had spent himself, then lay, washed out, watching the moonlight play across his bedroom walls, wondering what it meant.

 

Since then, he found his eyes wandering. Everyone knew Kíli was mildly reknowned as a bit of a flirt, but these days his flirtations didn’t end at just dams. Sometimes he caught himself positively staring at someone for an unnaturally long time, someone who was undoubtedly a _he_. He jerked himself out of his torpor, giving himself the excuse that he was just daydreaming, but couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved by his own lingering eyes.

Something shifted in the corner of Kíli’s vision and his head whipped around. The blonde stranger he hadn’t noticed before was standing at the end of the bookshelf, watching him. He had light golden hair, several shades paler than Fíli’s tawny; Kíli thought it must be the lightest hair he had ever seen on a dwarf, apart from Balin and his snowy white beard.

 

The stranger smiled in apology for startling him and was gone.

 

Kíli imagined he’d seen a knowing gleam in those dark eyes.

 

……

 

The next morning, Kíli couldn’t surpress the stab of jealousy he felt when Fíli took Aliyah’s arm and they made their way away from him down the corridor… Together. Fíli had said they were just going for a walk, but when Kíli asked to join them Fíli shot him a look that undoubtedly meant _Not this time_.

 

Kíli decided to take advantage of his unexpected time alone to attend to a private business. The library had proved fruitless, and after battling with himself for days, he’d come to the conclusion that the only other way he was likely to find the answers he sook, the only person who had a chance of being able to explain his strange feelings to him, was Balin. The thought of telling Balin the secret he’d been harbouring for months now made him feel as if he was shriveling up inside, but he trusted the wise old dwarf and knew that if Balin didn’t know, no one did.

 

A cordial voice greeted him when he knocked and he almost fled before steeling himself and pushing open the Balin’s door. The old dwarf smiled warmly.

 

“Ah, Kíli.” Balin gave Kíli an affectionate squeeze in welcome. “What message have you got for me?”

 

“Um, no message,” Kíli replied.

 

“No message?”

 

“I… I was wondering if I could ask you some advice,” Kíli admitted, face flushing a little.

 

Balin was surprised at the lad’s embarrassment.

  
“It’s only… I think… I’m not sure if I’m wrong… if I should be worried… is it strange?” he babbled.

 

Balin regarded Kíli evenly. “Spit it out, laddie. I’m not here to judge you.”

 

“It’s just that… I think I’ve started feeling attractions for… dwarves,” Kíli confessed finally. He looked up, eyes filled with a sudden defensiveness, though his cheeks were still tinged with pink. “Is that wrong?”

 

“By all means, no,” Balin said, and began to laugh. Kíli was taken aback, watched as Balin chuckled heartily.

 

“Oh Kíli, I should have guessed. Your heart is so filled with love it doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

 

“What doesn’t surpise you?” Kíli asked, a little bewildered.

 

“It’s perfectly natural, your feelings towards other dwarves. It is unusual, I grant you, not all dwarrows feel the same affections they do for the opposite sex for their own sex. But it is not unheard of, and it is certainly no reason to feel ashamed.”

 

Kíli felt relief wash over him. “Thank Aule! I tried to look it up in books… but nothing I could find in the library told me anything.”

 

“Well, laddie, its hardly the kind of thing you can expect to be extensively written about.” Balin leaned forward, head cocked curiously. “May I ask; alongside these feeling for dwarves, do you still also feel attracted to dams?”

 

“I – I think so, yes.”

 

“Love can take many forms, my boy. One may like dwarves, one may like dams, one may like both. Why, my own brother is among the rarer kind, who prefers exclusively the intimate company of others like himself.”

 

Kíli was startled. “Dwalin? Really?”

 

Balin chuckled again. “Oh yes! You would do well to disbelieve the stories he tells of the exploits of his youth!”  


“Then why woud he tell them?”

 

The smile slipped from Balin’s face and he sighed. “Dwalin is – well, shall we say he is a sensitive soul who prefers to keep some things private.”

 

Kíli frowned, suddenly remembering something Fíli had said to him once. “Balin… Fíli once told me the love for your one can be unrequited. Is that true?”

 

“Fíli is right – in a way. When dwarves were first created, as you know, Aule crafted us – “

 

“From the stone,” Kíli interrupted eagerly and Balin nodded.

 

“Yes, from the stone. So we assumed many traits similar to stone: unyielding, unrelenting, stubborn, and any changes we made were made forever. Dwarf hearts were no different.”

 

Kíli frowned.

 

“A dwarf heart, made of stone, could only be given away once. Once a dwarrow had carved the name of another into his heart, it could never be undone. So it came to be that many dwarrows by misfortune gave their hearts to the wrong dwarrow, one who did not love them back or had already given their hearts to another. Thus, as you can imagine, at the beginning we had a lot of broken-hearted dwarves and dwarrowdams, and few who had truly found happiness in love. Love seemed a doomed concept for our kind.”

 

“Is that what Fíli is worried about? That he will give his heart to Aliyah but she won’t give him hers?”

 

“Fíli needn’t worry about that, his Aliyah is just as besotted as he is, even a blindman could see that,” Balin mused, waving his hand. “What Fíli doesn’t know is the second half of the myth.

 

“Yavanna, Aule’s wife, saw the misery and wretchedness that plagued the love-lorn dwarrows. She took pity and changed their hearts, making them soft and malleable, able to love freely. But Aule was not willing to relinquish fully the stoniness of their hearts, so he forged for each dwarrow a partner, a soulmate, what is so often called a dwarrow’s One. So it came to be that while a dwarf may love more than once, there remains for him only one true soulmate – his One. The term ‘One’ is of course, a little misleading and leads many to believe dwarrows can only give their heart away or love once.”

 

“But how could any of the gods assure that every dwarrow finds their One?” Kíli asked. “Is it – is it fate then? And how could everyone have a soulmate, if there are three times as many dwarves as dams?”

 

“My lad, these are nowt but myths,” Balin told him, almost dismissively. “They are maintained by lovers who defend their truth as valiantly as every bachelor or spinster defends their absurdity. Take from them what you will – believe what life offers to you, not what you hope to see in it.”

 

Kíli, much relieved, thanked Balin and left.

 

……

 

After his chat with Balin, Kíli began to see Dwalin in a different light.

 

He had known Dwalin since he was born, but he felt like he had never really _looked_ at Dwalin before. He sneaked glances at him across the table when he dined with them, speaking animatedly with Thorin about matters of state, and stayed with them as they migrated to the fire to smoke and tell stories and jokes. Kíli listened intently to Dwalin’s raucous laugh, the way he threw his head back and roared with mirth. He surreptitiously studied the muscles of his arms and back during his training sessions to join the King’s Guard (as was traditional for the second-born son in the royal line) – he marveled at the way the flesh clenched beneath Dwalin’s weather-beaten skin.

 

He felt like he and Dwalin shared a secret, like he’d been let into some kind of clandestine club which only he and Dwalin, and who knows how many others, were privy to. And if Dwalin ever noticed Kíli’s staring, he didn’t make note of it.

 

He couldn’t mistake the distinct fluttering in his heart as he found himself making sure he sat next to Dwalin more and more often at meals.

 

It was the end of a long week. Everyone in the King’s Guard were going down the inn after a hard day’s training and Kíli decided it was time to make his move – and naturally helped himself to ale to give him the liquid courage to do it. He got cockier and cockier as he drank, his voice competing with the others and more often than not, winning in its volume and the extravagance of his not-entirely-truthful anecdotes.

 

Eventually, the proprietor of the bar approached them and suggested it was time to leave.

 

“Aw, you would never kick us out, Raik?Not when we’re having such a good time?” Kíli exclaimed in mock outrage, accompanied by the sighs and moans of the rest of the dwarves.

 

It made him shudder pleasantly when Dwalin grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

 

“It’s well time we took our leave, lads,” he instructed gruffly. “And time for bed.”

 

“Ah, Dwalin, you break my heart,” Kíli sighed melodramatically, winking at him.

 

Dwaln accompanied Kíli back to the royal chambers. Kíli wound an arm around the warrior’s beefy bicep, marveling at the taut flesh almost bursting out of the skin. He shocked himself with his daring as he clasped Dwalin’s hand with his own. Dwalin made no comment.

 

At the door, Dwalin extricated himself from Kíli’s hands.

 

“Goodnight Kíli. Don’t forget to be up for the appointment we have with the Master of Dale tomorrow.”

 

Kíli tried to bat his eyes seductively. “Won’t you come in and smoke a while?”

 

“I don’t believe you’ll keep your eyes open for that long. See you tomorrow.” Dwalin started making his way back down the corridor.

 

"Aw, Dwalin. Not even a kiss goodnight?" Kíli called after him. He widened his eyes and stuck out his bottom lip, trying to look adorably offended.

 

Dwalin glowered at him. "What?"

 

Kíli rolled his eyes and sniggered. "Oh, come on, Dwalin, I _know_."

 

Dwalin advanced dangerously. "And what do you think you know?"

 

Kíli grinned slyly and brought his lips dangerously close to Dwalin's ear. "I know, ahem, shall we say, _what team you're on_."

 

Dwalin turned a deep shade of brick red. He spun on his heel and made to stride away again but Kíli called out after him, "Oh don't be like that… it’s not a bad thing! I am too! I asked Balin, he said it was _natural_.”

 

“Did you now?”

 

"Yes,” Kíli replied happily, missing the ominous rumble in Dwalin’s voice. “So, now we’ve cleared the air, so to speak… how about it then?" He swung out a hand and swatted Dwalin's backside with a satisfying clap.

 

The next second, the air was knocked out of him as Kíli was shoved heavily against the stone wall. Winded, gasping for breath, he could hardly feel the floor beneath his feet as Dwalin growled, " _Don't_ presume you can touch me, prince you may be! I don't know what my fool brother chose or did not choose to tell you, but whom I bed is none of anyone else's concern, let alone _yours_!"

 

"Sorry!" Kíli sputtered, still battling to draw air back into his lungs. "I'm sorry! I didn't think -"

 

"Exactly! You never think! You think I didn't notice how you've been flirting with me like I am some common whore for the last few days? Don't forget that I am almost twice your age. Your uncle is a brother to me, a _brother_ , d’you hear?" Dwalin released him and Kíli's knees buckled as his feet hit the stone floor.

 

"I hope you've learned something," Dwalin finished coldly. He stormed out of sight, leaving Kíli to massage his forearms where Dwalin had pinned him against the stone.


	3. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili's jealousy reaches a peak.

Kili avoided Dwalin for the next few weeks. It wasn’t only because of Dwalin’s thunderous temper and his consequent fear for his own safety, but he felt horribly embarrassed after what had happened. He knew he had been wrong, supremely arrogant, to even consider that Dwalin would want him too, and he berated himself for letting his daft fantasy run away with him. He knew he’d gone too far, that whatever Dwalin’s insecurities about his own private life, they were not for Kili to know, and he felt miserable at the thought that his stupidity had lost him Dwalin’s frienship forever. He only hoped that time would help him rectify his mistake.

 

Besides, Kili had other things to think about.

 

He had seen the blond stranger he first noticed in the library several more times – and every time, he was staring at him. Whenever he caught his eye, the stranger smiled apologetically and turned back to his own business, but it was only minutes before Kili would undoubtedly catch him staring again. Kili wasn’t sure that he disliked it.

 

On the other hand, Kili was feeling more alone than he’d ever felt. Everybody it seemed was busy, except him. Thorin was always buried in his business of being King; everyone else was making friends or getting stuck into their new lives of Erebor; and Fili was almost insufferable. _Aliyah_ this, _Aliyah_ that… It wasn’t that Kili disliked Aliyah; on the contrary, Kili grudgingly had to admit that he liked Aliyah. He was rapidly getting used to her company, as Fili semed to bring him everywhere with him these days. She was _lovely_ , bubbly and kind and beautiful and Fili’s entire being seemed to light up when she was with him. Nonetheless, Kili had the distinct impression she was usurping him as his brother’s favourite companion. It felt like months since he’d seen his brother properly; he missed talking to him, wrestling with him, even their petty squabbling.

 

In the training grounds, Kili’s thoughts became too much for him. After missing the bullseye for the fourth time in a row, Kili kicked the turf savagely before crouching down, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was alone, so he let a few tears trickle down his face.

 

He was too caught up in his miserable, confused thoughts to notice his mother and brother’s voices growing nearer and nearer.

 

“Kíli he- Kee, what’s wrong?” Fíli stopped dead in his tracks as his brother leaped to his feet and spun around. “Have you been crying?”

 

“Don’t be absurd,” Kíli shot back automatically, hastily ducking down to pack his arrows back into the quiver. “It’s just the rain.”

 

“It’s been dry for hours now,” Fíli said quietly as his brother shoved the last arrow in and slung his bow over his shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

 

Kíli told him to go away using a Khuzdul curse that made his mother cry “Kíli!”

 

“Oh, leave me in peace can’t you!” he snapped at them both, turning round and stalking away towards the woods sprinkled at the foothills of the mountain.

 

Fíli was used to Kíli’s mood swings – goodness knows he didn’t miss Kíli’s adolescent years – but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a little hurt by his brother’s rejection. He looked questioningly at Dís, whose shocked expression at Kíli’s swearing had been replaced by a look of regret as she gazed at Kíli’s retreating back.

 

“I think I know what this is about,” she sighed softly. “You’d better leave him to me for a bit.”

 

“As if you’d catch him,” Fíli gesticulated. “I’ll go, Ma.”

 

“No, Fee – “

 

“I’ll get him!” he insisted, starting to run in the direction Kíli’s back had disappeared.

 

Fíli knew Kíli loved to hunt, and sure enough, he noticed as soon as he had reached the forest that Kíli had broken into a run as soon as he was out of eyesight of the others. Fíli could only hazard a guess at the direction he’d taken, based on a few snapped branches and squashed grass (curse Kíli’s doeskin boots that left no marks on the dirt). A breeze lifted his hair, and Fíli was suddenly inspired, taking off in the direction against the wind. Key in Kíli’s tactics was the element of surprise, and he knew Kíli would never have run in the direction so the wind would carry his scent ahead of him.

 

Fíli eventually hit a clearing, through which a broad stream flowed. He looked around helplessly. The wind had died, so he was stuck. “Kee?” he called in desperation.

 

No answer.

 

“Kííliiii!” Fíli tried again. If he was setting up an ambush within earshot, he knew Kíli wouldn’t bear Fíli making so much noise and would reveal his weareabouts even if just to make Fíli shut up.

 

And sure enough:

 

“KÍÍÍÍÍLIIIIII!” 

 

“ _Shh!_ ”

 

Relieved, Fíli spun around and saw his brother crouched, predictably, in a tree.

 

Kíli didn’t speak as Fíli hauled himself up next to him.

 

“You’d best get going to the royal feast soon,” Kíli muttered after a long few minutes of silence. “I’m staying here all night. I know of a few boar that regularly frequent this stream and I’m hoping to get one.”

 

“Don’t be like that, Kee,” Fíli sighed, repressing a desire to roll his eyes at his brother’s sulkiness. “You can’t stay here all night.”

 

“Can’t I? Watch me,” Kíli snapped. “It’s not like anyone would miss me.”

 

“I would miss you,” Fíli replied quietly.

 

“Well maybe now you can tell your jokes to _her_ at the feasts and maybe have foodfights with _her_ instead too,” Kíli suggested bitterly. “Go, you’ll be late, and Mahal forbid Fíli, son of Dís, heir of Durin is late for his _feast_.”

 

Something in Fíli’s mind clicked. “Is that what this is about?” he asked softly. “You – you’re the spare?” He winced as he said the word, and regretted using it even more as Kíli jerked away from him, batting aside the hand Fíli had outstretched to touch his arm soothingly.

 

“Don’t be _stupid_ ,” he hissed sharply. “It’s not that _at all_ , d’you hear? Now go, I’m busy.”

 

“Kee,” Fíli almost whined. When he got no reply, anger bubbled inside him. Despite all they had been through, despite every assurance and promise of his love he had ever made to Kíli, Kíli had to always complicate everything with his immaturity, a feature of his youth he really should have outgrown by now.

 

“Fine,” Fíli snapped, leaping out of the tree and landing steadily on his feet. Kíli cursed inwardly: he had been secretly wishing his brother would topple over. “I’m going now. Enjoy your boar ambush on an empty stomach. I hope that you’ll come and talk to me if you ever decide to grow up!”

 

Fíli almost regretted his words, but later decided he didn’t as he thoroughly enjoyed the feast. He had invited Aliyah to sit at the high table in Kíli’s surly absence and, as was appropriate for the Deep Ale fest, found himself well and truly drunk. He and Aliyah laughed like goons at every one of Bofur’s daft jokes and cheered when Bombur started tossing tidbits into the air and catching them in his mouth. It was all fun and games until Bombur got a little over-ambitious, knocking things over as he stood on one of the stone tables, rapidly setting off a domino-effect of people’s full goblets of wine.

 

The shouts of outraged wine-stained dwarrows heralded Aliyah and Fíli’s exit as they left the hall, guffawing. Fíli, never forgetting his princely manners even in his inebriated state, proffered his arm for an unsteady Aliyah, but before they turned down a tunnel that would have led to the house she shared with her mother and sister, she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her feet on the ground.

 

“Take me to your chambers, Fíli,” she breathed in his ear. “I’ve never been to the royal palace.”

 

Fíli couldn’t think of any reason not to, especially with their families still in the dining hall enjoying the feast. They crept through the hallways nonetheless, stealing kisses every time they ducked into a dark alcove to avoid passing another dwarf, until they eventually came to the wooden door framed with gold beyond which lay Fíli’s quarters. His and Kíli’s rooms were adjoined by a bathroom between them, though Kíli barely used it, preferring to wash in the communal baths immediately after returning from a scout with the other dwarves in the King’s Guard.

 

Aliyah gasped at the full moon clearly streaming in from the mullioned windows, flooding the room with silvery light as Fíli fumbled to light an oil lamp by the bed. Failing that, he satisfied himself with a candle and sat down on the bed with a huff. Aliyah curled up around him.

 

“Your bed’s so _soft_ ,” she marvelled.

 

“Mmm,” was all he could manage in reply as her lips covered his own. She was soft and warm, so _right_ next to him. His mind and body filled with how achingly good it felt to be with Aliyah, their lips connected, arms weaving around eachother, his hands in her hair, breathing in her fragrance; slipping off the straps of her dress, her fingers pushing at his furs, tugging at the buttons on his waistcoat and shirt, lifting, pulling, till they were free from fabric and their skin touched. Nothing else mattered but how _right this felt_. He could barely form a coherent thought; he barely knew his own name.

 

……

 

Many hours later, Fíli was vaguely aware of the door leading to his bathroom creeping open, and blearily registered a shadowy figure stealing across the room. A hand gently pushed him backwards as a figure crept into bed beside him.

 

“Ki – Kíli?” Fíli whispered in alarm.

 

“I’m so sorry, Fee, I’m so sorry,” Kíli whispered, finding his brother’s hand in the darkness and gripping it with both of his own. “I didn’t mean to be such a brat, I’m sorry I snapped at you. Forgive me?” Kíli lowered his head to press his lips against Fíli’s knuckle.

 

“Kee,” Fíli was at a loss of what to say. Kíli was clearly unaware of the slumbering dwarrowdam on his other side. And he hadn’t yet seemed to notice Fíli’s lack of nightclothes.

 

“Please say you forgive me _nadad_? Please?” Kíli’s voice sounded on the verge of tears. Fíli automatically reached out and began stroking his little brother’s hair soothingly. “Yes! Yes, of course Kíli, I forgive you.”

 

Fíli sensed rather than saw his brother’s brilliant smile at his words, and he immediately moved to lay down more comfortably, pressing himself into Fili’s chest.

 

“Kíli,” Fíli started again but Kíli cut across him. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight? I want to be close to you. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me.”

 

“Kee – “ Fíli began for a third time but a sleepy mumble cut across him. “Fíli? Who are you talking to?” Aliyah shifted on his other side, laying a hand on Fíli’s ribs as she made to sit up. Fíli’s heart froze.

 

With a stifled cry of hurt and surprise, Kíli wrenched himself out of Fíli’s arms and fled blindly from the room. Fíli heard something fall to the ground and the door slammed.

 

All of this seemed to have bypassed Aliyah, still wrapped up in drowsy cobwebs.

 

“What was that?” she mumbled. Fíli said nothing but rolled over, pulling her against his chest and hoping she wouldn’t notice his shaking fingers. Guilt swelled inside him and he tried not to replay the anguish in Kíli’s voice as he had thrown himself out of the room, despite Fíli’s silently clutching hands begging him to listen, wait, explain. Fíli pictured Kíli hurling himself onto his bed sobbing, or more likely crawling out of his window to flee Erebor again, disappearing into the woods for goodness knew how long this time.

 

…..

 

Kíli did not leave the city. He curled up miserably onto his bed and cried frustrated, angry tears until he forced his mind to get a grip on itself. In the morning he ignored the knocks on his bolted door and was glad he’d had the sense to wedge a side-table under the handle of the door to his bathroom as its handle rattled, as if someone was trying to come in from there. He stuffed his ears with moss so he could drown out the pleading voices begging him to open the door.

 

A sudden loud crash made Kíli yelp and sit upright so fast his neck cracked painfully. He rubbed the top of his spine and groaned.

 

“That pain will be nothing compared to what you’ve got coming to yeh,” growled a voice and Kíli raised his eyes to see Dwalin. His door creaked on one hinge, hanging pitifully and utterly useless.

 

“Dwalin, what have you done?” Kíli tried to sound annoyed, but was pretty sure his tone was ruined by the red tinge creeping into his cheeks. He tried to forget the last time that he had seen Dwalin.

 

The warrior glanced nonchalantly over his shoulder, barked a laugh and strode towards the bed. “Someone had to get through to yeh. Get out of bed. Fíli told Thorin everything and he’s on his way.”

 

Kíli almost whined. He flopped back onto the bed and pulled the covers over his face, retreating back into the comforting dark.

 

“Enough of that!” There was a touch of ferocity in Dwalin’s voice now. The covers were pulled roughly off Kíli’s face and he screwed up his eyes to avoid looking into the ones a few inches away from his own.

 

“Why are you here?” Kíli mumbled.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Dwalin grabbed the tops of Kíli’s arms and lifted him bodily to set him standing on the floor. Kíli kept his eyes shut.

 

“I’ve got nothing against yeh, lad,” Dwalin added almost gently. “But this is no befitting way for an heir of Durin to behave.”

 

“A spare of Durin, you mean,” Kíli corrected bitterly.

 

Dwalin rolled his eyes and threw Kíli some clothes. “Get dressed. And you’d best get ready to start explaining yourself when your uncle gets here!”

 

Kíli glared at Dwalin’s back as he marched out of the room. He crossed the room with the intention of slamming his door, then realised the best he could do was to pull the door to lean diagonally across the gap. With a jolt of frustration, he realised he didn’t even have the privacy to get changed.

 

“I _won’t_!” he hissed through gritted teeth and petulantly flung himself back onto the bed, half-hoping Dwalin would come back and see his resistance.

 

A different voice made Kíli swallow his pettiness guiltily.

 

“Kíli, may I come in?”

 

He didn’t need to ask who it was. He immediately sat up and saw the question had merely been a courtesy, as his uncle was already in the room, surveying the tragic remains of the door with a bemused expression on his face.

 

“Am I to take it that Dwalin was here first?”

 

Kili kept his eyes glued to the flagged marble floor as Thorin strode easily towards him. He was dressed of course in his royal finery, gold chains hanging form his neck and his fingers embroidered with jewel-encrusted rings. But on his face, far from the regal, kingly expression he usually wore, was the one Kíli remembered from childhood, his uncle, the real Thorin.

 

Kíli went back miserably to curl up under the furs on his bed, encasing everything but the top of his head underneath them. A minute later he felt the mattress sink a few inches and a heavy hand on the top of his arm.

 

“Is this the way a prince should behave, Kíli?” his uncle asked, half reprimandingly, half soothingly. It was Thorin’s way to manage to be both stern and gentle at the same time. Kíli shook his head, still not emerging from the blankets.

 

“I know you are jealous.”

 

At that Kíli did sit up.

 

“I’m not _jealous_!” he retorted.

 

Thorin half smiled. “I recognise this. My brother Frerin was just the same, exactly the same. I’ve often said how much you lads remind me of him. And now it’s just like all those years ago when my father told me I had to marry and I began courting.”

 

“They’re not _courting_ ,” Kíli snapped. “They’re just friends.”

 

Thorin raised one eyebrow. “Fíli told me everything. Do you truly still believe that after what happened yesterday?”

 

Kíli flushed.

 

“Well?”

 

“I suppose not,” he replied in a whisper. He battled with his eyes as they threatened to fill with tears.

 

Thorin knew him better than he knew himself. He pulled Kíli onto his lap, despite his protests that he was far too big for that now, and crushed him in a tight hug, warm and comforting, filled with the smell Kíli remembered from childhood.

 

“I just don’t want him to leave me,” Kíli mumbled, allowing a few tears to fall.

 

“You should have seen him this morning! He was distraught!” Thorin told him. “So worried he’d upset you, that you’d left Erebor again and had disappeared into the woods as is your wont. He could never leave you – he’s your brother.”

 

Kíli couldn’t help but smile, but the smile died at his uncle’s next words. “Be that as it may, however – Kíli, you must learn to trust him. And be happy for him. You like Aliyah, do you not?”

 

“Yes.” Kíli fidgeted.

 

“And don’t you want Fíli to be happy?”

 

“Uncle, why are you berating me as if I am a child?” Kíli whined, deterring from the uncomfortable answer to the question.

 

“As long as you act like one, I must speak to you like one.” Kíli opened his mouth to argue but was silenced by the glint in his uncle’s eyes.

 

“No more running away,” Thorin chided, shaking Kíli gently on his lap. “No more tantrums. No more tears. No more sulking. And no more skipping feasts to ambush non-existent boars! You have your royal duties too, Kíli. Don’t ever think you are unimportant because you are the second-born.”

 

Kíli nodded - and understood.

 

“The time has come to grow up. Maybe you too should think about courting, rather than your tussles and flirtations with down at the tavern.”

 

Kíli mimed retching onto the floor.


	4. Loni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili finally confronts his stalker.

Kíli finally plucked up the courage to confront the dwarf who had been stalking him.

 

His name was Loni, son of Lobruk. He was a miner. His unusually thin stature was an asset as he could explore the narrower crevices other dwarves were too beefy to enter, let alone navigate. Hearing Loni’s stories about the mines, the miles upon miles of riches concealed below Erebor and the wonderment with which he spoke about them, made Kíli want to go with him and see such wonders for himself, the beauties hiding just beyond the stretch of fingertips, waiting and aching to be released.

 

Loni confessed that his father disapproved strongly of Loni’s lifestyle habits. No matter how Loni tried to persuade him, he remained insistent that Loni should find a wife, and put aside the trivialities that he considered Loni’s romantic interests. Loni’s mother was long dead.

 

Loni said he’d had an inkling from the first time he’d seen Kíli, watched as Kíli’s eyes settled, then jerked away from their male object of scrutiny. “I knew for sure when I saw you in the library. It was where I went first, too.” Unlike Kíli though, Loni had had no one to ask, and had floated, lost and bewildered by the feelings inside him until he finally met someone, his first lover, who could explain it all. Nonetheless, he was still tormented and life remained a burden to him. Kíli was reminded sadly of Dwalin when Loni admitted to the battle he fought within himself, trying to suppress something that simultaneously felt right and wrong; his conflicting feelings, guilt and unashamed desire, plagued him constantly.

 

They met up as often as they could without aggravating the suspicions of Lobruk. Often they would just walk, admiring the beauty of Erebor – like Kíli, Loni was raised on stories of the Lonely Mountain and its restored magnificence never ceased to amaze them. Other times they settled in hidden-away crevices, talking softly, holding hands. They drank eachother in, learning new things all the time. Being with Loni was very different from anyone else Kíli had been with before. He began to feel a deep love for this good-hearted, honest man, a wholesome love, which he felt certain was returned.

 

Kíli felt no qualms about his own family’s reactions, but out of respect for Loni he told no one, with the exception of his mother. Dis was growing suspicious and she was the only person Kíli could never lie to. So he told her the truth and she hugged him and told him she would love and support him through everything but warned him to guard his heart carefully.

 

No matter how subtle they tried to be, if not secretive, naturally some people noticed. Neither of them missed the whispers about them in the tavern, and Kíli laughed along with anyone who poked fun at him or commented on his life choices, as long as it was all intended in good humour. Kíli didn’t notice any undercurrents of dark whispers, disapproving tuts, but Loni said he did. Kíli told him teasingly that he was being paranoid. Loni lived in constant fear of his father hearing about his continued exploits; he told Kíli of Lobruk’s anger, his accusations, his threats if he ever caught him doing such a thing again.

 

“He’s thinks I’m acting rebelliously just to spite him,” Loni murmured bitterly. “He doesn’t understand. He never will.”

 

“He’s your father,” Kíli whispered. “He loves you.”

 

Loni wasn’t convinced.


	5. The Engagement Feast

 

At the engagement feast, Thorin naturally sat at the centre of the high table. On his left sat Fíli and next to him: his future bride. Aliyah looked stunning. She had been born into a family of high nobility and she took her wedding to a royal prince in her stride. She wore robes of azure and shining silver to complement the accents in Fíli’s navy jerkin and breeches.The pair of them positively emitted rays of light.

 

On Thorin’s right sat Kíli and next to him Dís. Dís glowed with happiness, beaming at everyone, and Kíli tried to mimic her joy, but he kept leaning down the table and shooting glances at his brother from Thorin’s other side. Even Kíli couldn’t help feeling elated on seeing his brother and his bride, both of whom were radiant with happiness. Kíli, to his own surprise, felt none of the resentment and jealousy he had expected to feel on this day. He was mightily glad of it, and proceeded to eat and drink as merrily as everyone else. 

 

After the meal, all the dwarrows migrated towards opposite end of the humongous hall, where decorations had been put up and a small stage stood. With a nod from Bofur, Kíli jumped onto the stage, pulling out his fiddle. “And now, dwarves and dwarrowdams!” he cried emphatically. “I invite you to join the Heir of Durin and his future wife in a dance!” Kíli grinned broadly at the glare Fíli gave him, raising his bow and launching into a jaunty tune. The others, Bifur and Bofur with their clarinets, Ori, Nori and Dori with their flutes, and Bombur with his drum, joined in. Balin began to clap his hands merrily, remarking to anyone who would listen that before his immense age, he had been highly skilled in the viol – “But that blasted instrument, I’ll be confounded if I didn’t lose it at some point on the journey! More’s the pity, ah! If only, if only, eh, Dwalin? We made a _fine_ pair on our viols!”

 

Dwalin smirked at his older brother, carefully removing the almost empty goblet of wine from his slackening hands.

 

Fíli and Aliyah moved together on the floor with a sweeping grace that suggested they had been dancing partners for decades; it was hard to believe from looking at them that they had met less than a year ago. Kíli had started the music with a rousing, quick-paced tune but Fíli accepted the challenge with ease. Fíli looked simultaneously regal and powerful and honest and modest, entirely captivated by the dwarrowdam in his arms. Kíli loved to watch his brother dance, the way he made it all look _so easy_ , and not for the first time Kíli wished he had an elegance to parallel his brother’s. Kíli was a good enough dancer when he wanted to be, though he could never achieve it as effortlessly as Fíli did.

Kíli preferred dances that involved lots of spinning and careening in dizzying circles anyway.

 

Later on, having finally been persuaded to abandon his fiddle and have a rest, Kíli watched happily, getting steadily tipsier at the whirling crowd of dwarrows on the dancefloor. Somehow, two viols had materialised and Balin had managed to coax his brother onto the stage for a duet. The two had stared fiercely into eachother’s eyes for a heartbeat before launching into a surprisingly aggressive passionate viol duet that left Kíli gawping, and questioning the degree to which Balin’s apparent drunkenness was an affectation.

 

Fíli and Aliyah had not parted from eachother’s embrace since they first touched the floor together and Kíli was once again overwhelmed with happiness for his _nadad_. Kíli was certain his brother had been happy before, but he could see that Fíli had found someone who could make him happy beyond belief, on a level Kíli knew he did not understand; Fíli had found the other part of him he had been missing until now. Kíli sometimes still smarted at the thought of his brother with someone else, but after his talk with Thorin Kíli knew not to be bitter – his brother was growing up. After all, it was most people's destiny to court, wed and produce children. Eventually, one day, he would probably do the same. Kíli accepted that, even if he thought the notion of having 'One's was utter rubbish.

 

Kíli joined the crowd of dancers that had began to link hands in a circle and move in complicated formation. Kíli was familiar with the dance, his feet moving almost of their own accord as they clasped hands, looped elbows, ducked under outstretched arms and swayed in labyrinthine figure-of-eight movements. He found himself grinning as the circle of dancers split into pairs, laughed as he saw Ori floundering on his own, and offered a hand for him to join he and his partner. Glancing up, Kíli noticed his partner was Safiyah, Aliyah’s sister, younger than him by only a few years. Her strawberry blonde hair was braided most beautifully, half of it pinned on top of her head while half of it fell loose to her waist, and she wore a bright orange gown, the layers of it like fire as they flickered and shifted with the raucous movement of the dance, the rubies set in her gold jewelery enhancing the illusion.

 

She beamed widely as the dance brought their faces close enough together to be heard. “We clash!” she cried, gesticulating at their clothes. In contrast to the tangerine of her dress, his own dark navy waistcoat, set with small silver studs, did look jarringly on edge.

 

He grinned back at her. “I don’t care if you don’t!” he retorted. The three of them quickened their pace, spinning fast enough to make them all dizzy by the time they ended the dance with a dramatic finish, letting go simultaneously and throwing their hands in the air. The challenge was to not bump into anyone else or topple over from disorientation. Safiyah stumbled into Kíli, and by the giggles erupting from her Kíli guessed she, like himself, was more than a little tipsy. Before she could fall over, he caught her gently and they sniggered conspiratorially.

 

“Let’s get a drink,” he suggested, though it was clear enough that neither of them really needed another one. They grabbed two goblets from one of the feasting tables, strewn with crumbs and shreds of meat and half-eaten pies. Kíli filled both of them with dark, amber-coloured wine.

 

“To the happy couple!” Kíli toasted ostentatiously, raising his goblet. “May the Heir of Durin live long and prosper!”

 

“To the happy couple!” Safiya agreed extravagantly. “And to the poor _nadadith_ and _namadel_ who have to live up to their outrageously successful siblings!”

 

“To us!” Kíli agreed enthusiastically, swinging their arms to crash the goblets together almost hard enough to dent them. They linked their arms and drank. Both spluttered.

 

“This – isn’t – wine!” choked Safiyah.

 

“Even better – it’s whisky!” Kíli realised. Without a moment’s hesitation, he threw open his mouth and downed the rest of the burning liquid. He grimaced, contorting as if he had tasted acid.

 

Several dwarrows around them noticed and began howling with laughter. Kíli tried standing up, and glanced over at them with what he thought was majesty and pride.

 

“I am a Prince of Durin, you know!” he told them, though his words were mush in his mouth and the dwarrows laughed all the harder. Safiya was doubled up.

 

“Oh – _Kíli!_ ” She could barely breathe from laughter. Kíli scowled at her for a second, then relented and grinned. He stumbled down beside her again, laying his head in her lap and exhaling melodramatically.

 

“Ah, Safiyah,” he sighed tragically. “What is to become of us? We, the second siblings?”

 

“Ah Kíli,” she replied, mimicking his theatrical sorrow in the tone of her voice. “Whatever indeed.”

 

In the corner of his eye, Kíli saw Loni staring at him. There was a small smile playing around his lips and a playful twinkle in his eye. He arched his eyebrows, giving Kíli a meaningful look, barely gesturing with his head to the doorway before turning sinuously and striding out of the hall. Kíli’s heart fluttered.

 

“I must go,” he told Safiyah quickly, sitting up. “It’s been a pleasure.” He kissed her hand courteously and followed Loni as quickly as he dared. He didn’t notice the smile slip from her face as she watched him go.

 

Outside the great hall, Kíli stared into the darkness for a few seconds before an arm looped around his own.

 

“I’m glad you came,” Loni breathed in his ear. “Take a stroll with me?”

 

“But of course,” Kíli replied with mock geniality, clasping the hand tucked into the crook of his arm with his own.

 

It wasn’t long before they reached the secluded Pearl Gardens, barely illuminated by a sickle-moon hanging in the deep blue sky sprinkled with stars. Kíli sat with Loni on the low wall on the edge of the courtyard, their fingers interlaced tightly. It wasn’t long til conversation dissolved into kisses, sweet and tangy.

 

Loni chuckled. “I can taste the whisky on your breath. How much have you had to drink?”

 

“As if you’re sober,” Kíli retorted good-naturedly, playing with Loni’s braided sideburns. “Your beard is becoming pretty grand,” he added. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were the one descended from the Longbeards!”

 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say your mother may have had a tryst with an elf before she had you!” Loni replied and Kíli laughed. It had always been a touchy subject, his taller-than-average stature and distinct lack of beard or brawn, but somehow he didn’t mind when Loni joked about it. It lacked the venom and scorn underlying others’ whispers and taunts when they spoke about him.

 

Halfway through their next kiss, Loni said, “I don’t mind elves you know. Oh, I know by our history we’re meant to hate them but there is something – I don’t know… appealing about them?”

 

“You dirty dwarf,” Kíli teased, but he couldn’t help agree, remembering Tauriel and her kindness to him during their time of imprisonment in Mirkwood. He would forever be grateful to her for passing him extra crackers or pieces of cornbread to supplement the meagre rations they received as prison fare. She had even been quite pretty, he conceded, and was almost a little sad when they made their escape, wishing he’d had a chance to thank her for her kindness and possibly at least left as friends.

 

“I can’t help what I’m into,” Loni said quietly. “If only I could…” he trailed off and Kíli knew he was thinking of his father. He tried to chase that thought away with a kiss.

 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “At least I’m an heir of Durin, right? You could have done worse.”

 

Loni kissed him, and his hands began to wander around his waist. Kíli felt Loni’s tongue playing gently with the tip of his own and his stomach flipped a little. With a half-gasp he pulled Loni closer, felt a hand sliding up his thigh –

 

“Stop,” Kíli whispered. It took all his self-restraint to lay a hand over Loni’s and push him away gently. “We should be getting back. We must have been gone half an hour at least? They’ll be missing us.”

 

Loni sighed, dropping his forehead onto Kíli’s shoulder. “You’re right,” he whispered after a pause. “Before they start sending people to look for us.” He sounded resigned.

 

Just before they got to the open doors of the hall, Loni pulled Kíli into an alcove. “Just before we get in…” and his mouth dominated Kíli’s. Kíli kissed him back passionately, pressing their bodies flush together. With Loni’s fingers in his hair and one clenched around his hip, with Loni’s lips on his own and the small, breathy sounds he made, Kíli didn’t know if he could ever stop.

 

“Kíli – oh.” They both jerked. Still encased in Loni’s arms, Kíli turned his head to see his brother staring at him.

 

“Oh. Hey Fíli,” Kíli tried to keep his tone light and hoped his brother couldn’t see his heart, hammering so fast he thought he would get light-headed.

 

“I just…” Fíli coughed. “I just wondered where you were… I’ll see you later.” Fíli’s face was unreadable as he turned and reentered the feast.

 

Loni let out a choked sob and covered his face with his hands. “ _Mahal_ , Kíli, shit… supposing he tells my father?”

 

“He won’t,” Kíli snapped. “I doubt he even knows who you are.” The image of his brother’s unreadable expression was swimming in the forefront of his mind. Was it confusion, was it unease buried there? Was it _revulsion_? Kíli’s stomach lurched.

 

Loni lowered his arms slowly, gazing at Kíli with eyes filled with tears and Kíli immediately regretted snapping.

 

“We’ll be fine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he backtracked, wiping Loni’s tears away with the cuff of his sleeve and pressing the dwarf into a fierce hug. “Don’t cry.”

 

After a minute, Kíli hesitated. “We probably shouldn’t walk in together,” he mumbled awkwardly.

 

“I can’t go back in there,” Loni said immediately. “I’m going home. Good – goodnight.”

 

Kíli watched him disappear into the darkness before steeling himself and walking through the double-doors.

His eyes scanned the room until they found his brother, half-slumped at a table across the room. He extricated himself from a very mery Bofur, who was trying to persuade him to join in a rousing chorus of ‘The Man in the Moon Stayed Up Too Late’, and sat down next to Fíli.

“H-hey Fíli.” One look at Fíli’s face told him his brother was well into his cups. His eyes were unfocused as they moved up, slowly, to look at Kíli.

“Hey, brother,” he replied, elongated his vowels stangely. “I was looking for you… before…”

Kíli held his breath but Fíli did’t continue. He frowned into his goblet of wine, turning it slowly in his hand. “Is… is this wine?”

“Yes, Fíli. It is.” Kíli closed his fingers around Fíli’s hand as he reached sluggishly across the table for a full flagon. “I think you’ve had enough brother.”

“Too… too much,” Fíli sighed in agreement. “Too… much…”

“That’s it lad!” came a jovial shout from behind him, making Kíli jump.

Gloin and Dwalin each grabbed one of Fíli’s arms and pulled him quickly but gently to his feet. Fíli sagged, his feet not supporting his own weight, and his chin flopping onto his chest. Behind them, Kíli saw Aliyah, in a similar state of inebriation, smiling blearily at everyone as Bofur clutched her arm.

“To the wedding chambers!” Dwalin boomed, to hearty cheers from all the gathered dwarves. Fíli looked up, a little dazed, as he and Aliyah were swept out of the hall to the sound of cheers and happy laughter.

“It’s not a celebration until the bride and groom are unable to stand,” Balin hiccupped happily from beside Kíli.

 

Kíli gazed after Fíli and Aliyah and their escorts with dismay. “If this is the engagement party, what will the wedding be like?”

 

“The wedding will be much more civilised,” Thorin assured him. Kíli hadn’t noticed him directly behind them, smiling bemusedly at the couple. “A quieter matter. They will be bound at midnight in the Yavanna’s Forge, deep in the mountain. The rings will be forged, cooled and placed upon the fingers of the bride and groom while they are still warm. In the morning, the confirmation of the bond will be announced in public.”

 

The night suddenly caught up on Kíli and he stumbled on his feet, Thorin quickly grabbing him and keeping him upright.

 

“You too, little Kee?” Thorin chuckled softly. “I believe this party is coming to an end. Let’s get you to bed.”

 


	6. Aftermath

 

Kíli felt wretched.

 

There were several explanations for his misery – for one thing, his poor abused liver had still not forgiven him for the engagement party, and four days later he was still recovering, the worst hangover known to dwarfkind ever, he thought savagely. He hadn’t ruled out the possibility of alcohol poisoning.

 

Yet in spite of how much he had drank, lurid memories of the night stood out viciously in his mind – the sweetness of his encounter with Loni jarred horribly with the sickening feeling at being seen by Fíli.

 

He hadn’t managed to see Loni and make it up to him either.

 

And worst of all, Fíli wasn’t talking to him.

 

Beyond that, Kíli thought that Fíli was _avoiding_ him.

 

Every time Kíli suggested they go sparring or swimming or even just accompanied him on an errand, Fíli always made up an excuse – he had a meeting with Thorin, he had to go see Dwalin, he was doing something with Aliyah.

 

“He’s almost a married man now, Kee,” his mother told him softly when he expressed his fears to him. “And he’s busy. Mahal knows how Thorin is keeping his hands full, training him how to run a kingdom. It’s nothing personal.”

 

Kíli tugged on his the roots of his hair with one hand. “It’s different though. He always found time for me before. It seems that _since that night_ he’s not the same with me.”

 

Dís was silent, sensing he wasn’t telling her the whole story.

 

“He may’ve… he may have seen me and Loni,” Kíli admitted quietly. “Well, actually… it might have been a bit worse than that.”

 

“Oh Kíli,” Dís sighed. Kíli raised his eyes to hers guiltily. She saw the wretchedness in his face.

 

“I don’t want to lose him,” he whispered, the old fear resurfacing, sucking out his insides, making him feel hollow. Dís took his face firmly in both hands.

 

“You tell him that,” she told him firmly. “You explain to him everything. He’s your brother, he loves you, this is just something he doesn’t understand. I’m sure he misses you more than you imagine.”

 

Kíli tried hard to believe her.

 

It took Kíli three days to figure out what he was going to say to Fíli, and antoher three before he finally plucked up the courage to say it. By the time he went down to breakfast, resolve set, he hadn’t spoken to Fíli for almost a fortnight. Kíli couldn’t remember seeing his brother and not speaking for him for this long ever in his life – even when they fought, it was usually a matter of hours or a few punches before they were back on speaking terms. Kíli hovered in the doorway for a few minutes, heart aching as he watched Fíli, oblivious or ignoring him as he ate his breakfast.

 

Kíli sat down next to him. Fíli acknowledged him with a glance and a not unfriendly nod with his mouth conveniently full of eggs. He shovelled another forkful into his mouth to avoid saying anything. The silence was tense.

 

“I need to talk to you,” Kíli began quietly, but Fíli stood up hastily, not meeting his eyes.

 

“Kíli, I’m already late for a… a thing I’ve got to… be at.” Kíli’s heart sank at the lie. “If you’ve, um, got something important to say…”

 

“I do,” Kíli said quietly.

 

“Can it wait?”

 

“I’d – I’d rather it didn’t if you don’t mind,” Kíli replied, sounding small.

 

“Then... what is it you want?” Fíli still sounded awkward.

 

Kíli looked down. “I want you,” he said sadly.

 

Kíli looked up and saw Fíli’s face filled with horror. “Kíli – how could you?” he said in a hushed voice. “I’m your brother! And I have Aliyah, Kíli what did you –”

 

“What? No!” Kíli interrupted, also horrified. “Fee, not like that, I didn’t mean like that! I mean… you haven’t even looked at me since your engagement party.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Fíli replied. His face was blank, carefully composed in an expression Kíli was well-trained to recognise. It was The Mask, features schooled to appear impassive, disinterested, concealing any inkling of what Fíli truly felt – he associated the face with coldness and Fíli withdrawing into himself. He hated it at the best of times, and hated it even more at seeing it turned on him. How could Fíli even think Kíli wouldn’t see through him?

 

“Fee, don’t pretend you were that drunk. I know you saw, and I wish I had told you rather than have you find out… that way. I thought you knew,” he added quietly. “Haven’t you ever wondered about the comments other dwarves make at the tavern?”

 

Fíli remained silent.

 

“It’s not unheard of,” Kíli told him. “I asked Balin and he says it’s not unusual for dwarves, especially considering our lack of dams. It’s perfectly natural. I still like dams. I just… like dwarves too.”

 

Fíli still said nothing. Kíli found it too painful to keep looking at his face so he focused instead on his own shoes.

 

“I love Loni,” Kíli said, deciding he might as well get everything into the open. “But – his father doesn’t approve. No one really knows about us. Well, apart from you, and Ma. But I’m scared, because I don’t think it will last, especially given how he doesn’t want anyone to know, and he means so much to me.”

 

Kíli chanced a glance up at Fíli’s face. Fíli wasn’t looking at him.

 

“Do I repulse you?” he asked sadly.

 

Kíli barely had time to blink away the moisture making its presence known in his eyes before he was grabbed roughly and shoved into a tight hug.

 

“Of course not,” Fíli breathed. “I’m – I’m so sorry Kee. For everything. I love you, I don’t know what came over me. Just… you must understand this comes as a bit of a shock.”

 

Relief flooded Kíli and he started to laugh, grabbing two handfuls of Fíli’s shirt. “A shock? For you? How do you think _I_ feel?!”

 

Kíli felt Fíli’s chest vibrate as he chuckled. “I can’t stand to see you upset. Especially when it’s because of me. Can you forgive me?” Fíli drew back to meet Kíli’s eyes. It was usually Kíli who was reknowned for his puppy eyes but Fíli could be _very_ persuasive when he wanted to be.

 

In reply Kíli grinned impishly and leaped on him. Fíli’s arm, outstretched to try and break his fall, knocked the plate of cold eggs and bacon off the table and it smashed on the floor. They giggled stupidly as they wrestled, Kíli for once getting the upper hand (he tried to ignore a sneaking suspicion telling him Fíli still felt guilty enough to let him have it) and pinning his brother to the floor. Fíli groaned as he realised, “Ah _Kee_ , there’s _breakfast_ all over my back!”

 

“Not sorry,” Kíli retorted, grinning. “You wanna hear something funny?”

 

“I suppose you’re going to tell me even if I say no, aren’t you?”

 

“I went to talk to Balin, after – well, after I started finding out about my feelings. And he told me Dwalin also liked dwarves.”

 

Fíli’s eyes widened as he guessed the rest of the story. “You hit on _Dwalin_?”

 

Kíli nodded guiltily and Fíli roared with laughter beneath him. “Kee, you _idiot_!”

 

“It wasn’t one of my smartest ideas,” Kíli agreed with a giggle. A bubble of elation was growing inside him – his secret was out, Fíli was speaking to him again, even the nagging thought of Loni’s father couldn’t bother him. He jumped to his feet and held out a hand for Fíli. “What do you want to do today?”

 

“Uh… I wasn’t lying about being late, I have to meet Aliyah. Although I’ll have to change now!” Fíli glared, though his face soon broke into a look of amusement as Kíli pouted.

 

“ _Fine_. Cast aside, as usual, in favour of the girl big brother’s going to spend the rest of his life with anyway.” He kicked his Fíli lightly in the shin to show he didn’t really mean it and stuck out his lower lip.

 

“Aww, poor jealous Kee,” Fíli teased, draping his arms sloppily around his little brother’s shoulders and nuzzling emphatically into his neck.

 

“Not jealous,” Kíli grumbled, wriggling. “Gerrof, you moron.” Fíli replied by poking out his tongue and dragging a wet stripe across Kíli’s cheek. “EURGH, Fíli stop!”

 

“What’s the matter?” Fíli asked innocently, big blue eyes the picture of innocence. “I thought you liked boys?”

 

“I do, but not you, you idiot!” Kíli retorted, straining against Fíli’s forearm, locked across his collarbone. Fíli grinned wickedly, evil intentions written plainly across his face. “Don’t touch me, ew, get your tongue away from me! _EW, FÍLI, EWWWW_!”

 

 


	7. Ered Mithrin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili was right to be afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a bit longer and is a bit shorter... I'm still not really happy with it, but I had to get it done so I could post the rest!

Kili was right to be afraid.

 

It wasn’t long after the engagement feast when Kili and Loni met for the last time and Loni told him tearfully that his father knew.

 

“He’s said we’re going to leave,” he whispered through his sobs as Kili held him.

 

Kili was distraught. He would have begged Loni to try to change his mind but he knew from his tone that pleading would be useless. Loni said Lobruk was making preparations already, and they were to leave in a matter of days.

 

“Where will you go?” Kili whispered.

 

“Don’t know. He won’t tell me exactly. We might go north, he said we have kin there. He wants me to train as a warrior.”

 

“A warrior?”

 

“He doesn’t want me below ground, where he can’t see me.”

 

Try as he might, Kili couldn’t stop his tears falling as he approached the palace. He broke into a run, desperate to get to his bedroom to spare him the shame of being seen blubbering like a dwarfling in the corridors. He was so blinded that he smashed headlong into another figure – his brother. One look at Fili’s face told Kili he knew.

 

“Lobruk has told Thorin,” Fili whispered to him as Kili fell into his arms. “He has expressed his concern about Loni’s… actions.”

 

Kili felt his body go boneless. He felt lightheaded. “Shit… Thorin...” He wondered if he was going to be sick.

 

“Thorin has given Lobruk his blessing to make their journey up north.”

 

At that Kili dissolved. Fili shook him slightly. “ _Nadadith_ , don’t! Be strong.”

 

“How? Loni means everything to me Fili, everything! And…” his voice became a whisper. “What – what will Thorin think of me.”

 

Doubt raged in Fili’s blue eyes as he struggled to find an answer. Kili’s heart sank even further.

 

“Don’t worry about that,” Fili said finally.

 

Fili helped Kili find decent clothes for dinner and kept a hand reassuringly on the small of his back as they made their way downstairs to the dining room. Thorin hadn’t asked to see Kili after Lobruk had left, nor had he shown any emotion at the revalation Lobruk presented to him. Thorin was unreadable; Kili shook at the thought of his disapproval, his disgust, his anger.

 

Thorin said nothing during dinner, only maintained polite conversation. Occasionally Dis caught her son’s eye, and he could see the concern and worry there, but he merely gave a miniscule shake of his head in reply and focused on his food, forcing it down even though he felt like he never wanted to eat again.

 

“Lobruk came to see me,” Thorin said finally. Kili’s head shot up but he saw Thorin had addressed the question to Balin, sitting opposite. Thorin placed another piece of venison into his mouth. “He speaks of travelling north to Ered Mithrin. He desires to see his kin. I think this is a good opportunity to begin reforging alliances with the Northern Dwarves.”

 

“An interesting idea,” Balin agreed thoughtfully.

 

Their conversation continued, discussing how it should be done, who should be sent, and what trade and other subjects should be broached. Kili was on tenterhooks, waiting for the moment when Thorin would finally turn to him and ask him if it was true what Lobruk said. He wondered what would happen, what he would say; was Thorin more open-minded than most? Would he exile him? Would he disinherit him, so he wouldn’t even be the second-born? He wondered if that would come as a relief or as a deep shame. He wanted with bated breath for his sentence to fall. It never came.

 

It was finally agreed that a host of representatives from Erebor should be sent, with Lobruk to be appointed head of the company. Kili didn’t stay to smoke around the fire with the others and went to bed, still waiting.

 

Kili didn’t trust himself not to lose it if he went to see off the party on their quest, so when the day finally came, he didn’t join Thorin and the others in formally waving them off. He stayed in his room, lying on the bed. His windows were open and he could distantly hear the sounds of Thorin’s booming voice, bestowing on them his official blessing, then the crowds cheering as they waved them off.

 

He wondered if their company would have received such a grand, hopeful farewell when they set out to reclaim Erebor, had they not been a mere patchwork of the dregs and nobility of Durinsfolk. The first time they had congregated as a company was the very night before the journey began, at Bag End of all places; it wasn’t as if they had been surrounded by hoards of supporters when they set off. He had been full of hope that night, no part of him doubting the chances of their success, though he had been much sobered by the end. He had been sure that once Erebor was reclaimed, all of his wildest dreams would come true at once, and he would spend the rest of his life drowning in riches and happiness. But the thing they never told you about coming back to a _home_ you had never known was how it didn’t, at least initially, _feel_ like home. Home was people, not a place.

 

Weeks passed. Fili and Aliyah finally married, and talk began about taking her to meet Dain in the Iron Hills. While Kili smiled and shared his best wishes with them alongside everyone else, he had never felt more alone. He missed Loni terribly, but he tried hard to distract himself. He thought of him often, wondered if he should write, but decided better of it. Months drifted by. Kili eventually found happiness again, found himself able to smile, to laugh, and in time he came to realise that his every thought had stopped revolving around Loni. And still Thorin stayed silent.

 


	8. Safiyah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is always hope :)

“Stop spoiling my son.”

 

Kíli looked up from where he was simultaneously bouncing Frerin on his lap and feeding him bonbons and grinned.

 

“Aliyah doesn’t mind. She says the caramel in these sticks his gums together and stops him crying in the night.”

 

“Kíli,” Fíli said slowly, picking up one of the bonbons and examining it. “These have _alcohol_ in them!”

 

“Oh! Well no wonder they make him sleep better.” Kíli laughed as Frerin grabbed at the bonbon he held in his hand, making him reach for it as he held it above his head.

 

“He loves it,” Kíli remarked, an irrepressible grin suddenly spreading across his face.

 

Frerin looked up and guffawed as he clapped eyes on his father. He immediately raised his arms and began jabbering, light wisps of hair quivering with excitement. Kíli surrendered him to Fíli and Fíli began throwing Frerin into the air, laughing at his shrieks of joy.

 

“Now look who’s the irresponsible parent, he’s just eaten!” Kíli mocked.

 

“Frerin, show Uncle Kíli what you can do.” Fíli brought Frerin’s feet back to earth and held his hands.

 

“Go on,” he whispered, releasing the chubby fingers. Frerin, a look of sudden concentration fixed on his face, began to stamp one foot in front of the other. Kíli’s mouth fell open. He crouched down, looking awe-struck as the babe tottered across the few feet of space that separated them. Frerin finally staggered into his outstretched arms and Kíli whisked the babe up under his armpits and whirled him around.

 

“You can walk!” he cried. “And not even a full year! So young!”

 

Fíli beamed. “Thorin believes it is a good omen.”

 

Kíli’s smile matched his brothers as he sat back down and set the infant back down on the floor. Fíli sat cross-legged in front of them. Frerin crawled into his lap.

 

Fíli couldn’t understand the look on his brother’s face as he watched Frerin, happy as a king on his throne as he gnawed happily on one of Kíli’s fingers.

 

“He’s teething,” Fíli explained. “When they start to come through, you won’t be letting him do that much longer.”

 

Kíli stayed silent, smiling absently. His eyes looked deep and undeniably sad, Fíli thought.

 

“Is everything alright _nadadith_?” he asked quietly.

 

Kíli’s eyes changed, as though he were being pulled out of a reverie. “Yes, everything’s fine,” he replied quietly.

 

“Are you… is it Loni?”

 

“No, no, not him.” Kíli sighed. “It’s just – I really want this, Fee.”

 

Fíli knew what he meant without asking. “Would.. would the idea of a dam be… horrible for… you?” he asked awkwardly.

 

Kíli chuckled mirthlessly at his brother’s discomfort. It was clear that Fili still didn’t understand, still felt uncomfortable talking about it, but Kili knew he was trying his best. “Of course not… I suppose. I wish I had _somebody_ the way you have Aliyah. I want _this_.” He gesticulated with the hand still latched in Frerin’s mouth and Frerin squawked good-naturedly.

 

“You would make a brilliant father, Kee,” Fíli murmured, eyes fixed on Frerin’s golden head, his first golden curls starting to form under his ears.

 

Kíli couldn’t help but smile at that.

 

When Kíli finally left Fíli’s apartments, night had long fallen. It was late and the lamps that swung from the high ceilings of Erebor’s halls were flickering a little, as though threatening to go out. Kíli decided that despite the hour he wasn’t quite ready to go back to his own room yet. He enjoyed wandering the city in its solitude after everyone else had gone to bed, allowing him the chance to stop and stare, truly take in the beauty of Erebor, take the time to drink in the tiny details. Besides, everything always looked different in the dark, new shadows making new shapes. It was exciting, as if the city transformed itself at night into a completely new place.

 

He was surprised to hear footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw a figure he recognised walking in his direction.

 

“Safiyah,” he called and the dam almost dropped the things in her arms with surprise. “Oh! Kíli! It’s you.”

 

Kíli smiled. “A little late to be wandering around?”

 

“I was just visiting the library,” she replied.  “Got – a bit carried away I suppose.”

 

“Let me walk you home.”

 

“I w-would be delighted!” Safiyah spluttered. She took the arm Kíli proffered to her and in silence they continued down the corridor.

 

Kíli couldn’t help but notice the deep blush that had settled on her cheeks. It would have clashed horribly with her hair on a normal day, but at night everything existed in shades of grey. It wasn’t the first time he had noticed. She was a sweet girl, and had always been a good friend to him. He had taken her riding a few times after she had admitted she didn’t know how, and Kíli couldn’t forget how flustered she had seemed, the way she glanced at the ground every time he looked at her, and feeling her heart pounding twice as fast as normal as he helped her down from her pony. In the dim light of the stuttering lamps, her blush settled prettily on her face. Kíli thought she looked rather beautiful.

 

Kíli decided to take a detour, leading Safiyah up some stairs to a gallery. It had open windows, ornately carved around the edges, and through them they could see the moonlit mountainside, the flowers that had sprung into life as buds weeks ago now blossoming, spreading across the bleak rock, arms opened wide to embrace the spring.

 

“I love this city at night,” he confessed quietly. “It’s so different when its just us, isn’t it?”

 

“Y-yes, you’re right,” Safiyah agreed.

 

They reached the door much faster than Kíli thought, and he found himself feeling a little sad at the thought of his departure.

 

Safiyah turned to him, if possible flushing even redder. “Th-thanks for walking me home, Kíli. It – the city is lovely in the dark.”

 

In the spur of the moment, Kíli kissed her. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but the gasp that came from Safiyah made him stop and draw back. Before he could go far, he felt soft hands cupping his face, drawing him back, cool lips tentatively pressing against his with a confidence that surprised him. He carefully brought his hands up to rest on her sides, felt her heart thrumming like a hummingbird inside her chest.

 

“Goodnight,” he whispered, beaming against her also smiling lips. “See you tomorrow.” He left her with one last kiss, and turned back towards the royal quarters with his head in a dream.


	9. Brothers wed Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... apologies for my uninspiring chapter titles, especially this one which i suppose could be misleading!

People always said that the Durin brothers married, just as they did everything - together.

 

Thorin approved mightily when Kíli voiced his intention to court Safiyah, and agreed wholeheartedly. They were married at the start of summer.

 

Safiyah was two years younger than Kíli. She and her sister, a year younger than Fíli, had always been close.

 

Kíli loved Safiyah’s hair, long and straight, with the slightest undulation of waves as it cascaded down her back, falling almost down to her hips. It was an unusual colour, strawberry blonde, as if her sister’s fiery red had been faded in the sun. She often kept it in one long braid. Kíli loved to be the one who untied the ribbon holding it together at night, unravelling it with his hands and watching it weave over and between his fingers. 

 

Safiyah was a head shorter than Kíli and was slim but curvy. Their bodies slotted together perfectly when they were curled up in bed. Kíli was able to tuck Safiyah’s head under his chin while their knees locked in an identical angle and their toes touched.

 

The first time Kíli took her, just after their wedding ceremony in the Forge of Yavannah, Safiyah nearly passed out from pain. Kíli was filled with horror and held her close, whispering his apologies and hating himself inside for hurting her, the dam who felt so tiny, so beautiful, like a little sparrow in his arms.

 

The next night, it was better.

 

Aliyah had become pregnant almost immediately, and less than a year after her marriage to Fíli, Frerin had been born. Safiyah seemed to have none of her sister’s luck, however. Kíli came back one evening six months after their marriage to find Safiyah crouching by the sink in their washroom, her dress and hands wet with crimson, shaking uncontrollably.

 

“There’s so much blood,” she whispered. “So much blood.”

 

Kíli ran a hot bath, and helped her out of her stained clothes. He threw them into a burlap sack and made a mental note to ask someone to burn them.

 

He helped Safiyah wash herself, as she was still in a state of almost catatonic shock. When she came to her senses, as Kíli lifted her arm and ran the soapy sponge over her delicate fingers with their perfect crested nails, she started babbling. “I lost it, Kíli, I lost him. I’m so sorry, I lost him, can you forgive me, I’m so sorry, _can you ever forgive me_?”

 

Kíli told her there was nothing to apologise for, these things happened, it wasn’t her fault. They would have more chances. He meant every word.

 

And sure enough, a few months after that, Safiyah began to claim her clothes felt too tight, and soon her belly began to swell visibly. They were both overjoyed, until the sickness kicked in, and Safiyah spent every morning retching up her breakfast.

 

Their happiness was shared by everyone. Little Frerin was now two, and though he was barely able to register the meaning of his aunt’s ballooning belly, the excitement was palpable even to him. Fíli and Aliyah told him to expect a new playmate, and though he didn’t fully understand the words, he acted in an appropriately enthusiastic way.

 

The babe was born a week before expected in the autumn. Safiyah was woken by pains in the middle of the night, and was in agony for over sixteen hours. For most of that time, Kíli stayed by her side, not making the process any easier despite his words of soft encouragement and his ever-present hand to squeeze tightly clasped around hers.

 

Finally the moment of truth came and Safiyah screamed as she bore their child into the world. Oin, who had delivered Frerin also, took one look and beamed at the dwarfling before he wrapped it in a blanket and gave it to Kíli. His eyes were the size of saucers and his mouth fell open.

 

“Safiyah, it’s a girl!”

 

Safiyah’s eyes widened and she promptly burst into tears, and happy tears slid down Kíli’s cheeks too as he embraced her. A firstborn daughter was truly a blessing. Rinah thanked Aule for gracing the family Cah with their abundance of dwarrowdams and she and Dis practically fought over who got to hold the babe first. Despite the fact that she was not in the direct line as heir to the throne of Erebor, the babe was welcomed with a celebration feast that rivalled Frerin’s almost three years earlier.

 

It was traditional that mothers named daughters and fathers named sons but Safiyah had insisted she wanted their daughter to be part of both of them. They named her Míyah.

 

……

 

Life continued under the Lonely Mountain.

 

Míyah and Frerin grew fast and furiously, and were soon walking and talking almost as expertly as their parents. They were showered with toys from Bofur and Bifur, who, despite now being rich enough from their fourteenth of the share of Erebor’s treasure that they had no need to work, continued to make toys, delicate wind-up figures and animals, though now they were made of copper and silver, not tin as they had been before.

 

Safiyah had retained some of her pregnancy weight, but Kíli pinched her love-handles and told her he loved them.

 

……

 

Kíli arrived back in his chambers late. The candles were all extinguished and he knew that meant Safiyah was in bed. He poked his head around the door to Míyah’s nursery and listened for a few seconds to her even breathing, before undressing as silently as he could and crawling into bed beside Safiyah. She didn’t stir when he settled down beside her, but she shifted when Kíli pressed against her back and kissed her shoulder.

 

“Hey,” he whispered, barely able to conceal his grin. “Guess who are a papa and mama a second time over?”

 

Safiyah gasped softly. “And I missed it? Is Aliyah alright?”

 

“Yes. Both mother and baby are fine and healthy. It’s a boy. He’s called Rilnar, though I imagine they’ll call him Rili for short.”

 

Safiyah let out a small breath. Her hands found Kíli’s face in the dark and she kissed him softly. “I’m so glad for them. I want to see them tomorrow.”

 

“We’ll go together,” Kíli agreed. His hand slid over the bulge on Safiyah’s abdomen that had started to make itself prevalent. Safiyah covered one of his hands with her own.

 

“We’ll be next,” she murmured.

 

“Aye,” Kíli whispered. “What do you think it’ll be?”

 

“A boy for sure,” Safiyah replied immediately. “I can tell. He feels different. And I remember – “ It was dark, but Kíli could sense her blush.

 

“Remember?” he goaded, poking her lightly.

 

“I remember how you took me,” Safiyah said in a low voice. “And… well… according to the stories, that should make him a son.”

 

Kíli guffawed. “You don’t believe such old wives’ tales, surely, _yasith_?” he said incredibly, kissing her nose teasingly.

“You never know,” she mumbled, a little sheepishly. “They’re not foolproof, but they worked last time,” she added.

“If such things were true, I’m sure dwarves wouldn’t have such a shortage of dwarrowdams as they do.”


	10. Talí

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Kili's second child

“How is Rili?”

 

Fíli’s smile grew even wider, as it always did at the mention of any of his children or wife. “Well. Growing like mad. Only a few months old, and it’s all we can do to keep him fed, he’s got an appetite like a horse.”

 

“Takes after his father then,” Kíli replied cheekily and Fíli stuck his tongue out at him.

 

They entered Thorin’s court, and Kíli flung himself petulantly into a chair. “Why do I need to be here?” he whined at Fíli. “I hate meetings.”

 

“You and I both, brother,” Fíli sighed.

 

“I never understand what’s going on and no one asks me for my opinion anyway. This meeting isn’t even about anything that concerns me. Why do I have to be here discussing _trade_?”

 

“Hold your tongue,” Fíli whispered as Thorin and others entered the room, already apparently deep in discussion.

 

Kíli sighed, preparing himself to be thoroughly bored for the next hour. He sat up to at least appear to be following the preceedings while his mind drifted onto the issues that really captivated him.

 

He and Safiyah had already agreed on a name for the babe, assuming it was a boy, as Safiyah was adamant that it was. He wondered what he would look like; Míyah took after her father in her hair and complexion but had her father’s eyes.

 

The door to the meeting hall burst open and Dori sprinted in, wide-eyed and breathless.

 

“Kíli! It’s Safiyah,” Dori panted, and Kíli looked up at once. “She – she’s been taken down to the birthing chambers!”

 

A frown appeared on Fíli’s face as he turned to his little brother, who had turned white as a sheet. “I thought the babe wasn’t due for another three weeks,” he murmured.

 

“It’s not,” Kíli replied, feeling the blood drain from his face. He shot a look at his uncle. “I – I’m sorry, please excuse me and pray take my pardons!” he blurted, and ran out of the room.

 

……

 

“We’re really quite full at the moment,” the midwife said bluntly to Kíli at the door. “Lots of babies being born today. You can come and see her, but only for a few minutes.”

 

Kíli pushed past without waiting for her to continue, glancing around until he saw Safiyah. She was lying on a bed in a far corner. The room was indeed crowded, almost every bed occupied with a heavily pregnant dwarrowdam, and the air was filled with their groans and grunts. Midwives and healers flitted around each like moths.

 

Kíli was amazed at his calm as he strode over to Safiyah. He had been like this during Miyah’s birth too, and he remembered how surprised others had been at his level-headedness. He couldn’t say his brother’s exclamatition, “Why, so _calm_ brother!” hadn’t dented his pride, as if they had been expecting him to overreact, given his usually passionate personality. Kíli had tried to brush aside the comment, reminding himself that it was not intended vindictively and not a disguised jibe at his immaturity, and mentally applauded himself for keeping his head screwed on in what had been the most monumental moment of his life.

 

“Hey,” he greeted softly, sitting on the bed next to Safiyah and gently squeezing her hand. “So he’s decided to join us early. How are you?”

 

“I’ve … been better,” she winced, face screwed up at some internal pang. Kíli held her hand more tightly, and a tiny note of panic slipped into his voice.

 

“I’m so sorry, does it hurt?”

 

He wanted to kick himself for such a stupid question but Safiyah merely nodded weakly. “I’ve been feeling pains for about an hour, the midwife said this will likely be a quick one as they’re getting quite strong already.” She winced again and the hand around her stomach tensed.

 

“How was it with Míyah?” he asked. “You weren’t in this much pain at this point were you?”

 

“No, but I can feel him moving. He’s kicking quite a bit, as if he’s raring to get out.” Safiyah gave him a small smile, but she couldn’t disguise the agony behind her eyes.

 

“Can – can I do anything? To help?”

 

“No,” a voice behind him replied, and he turned to see the surly midwife was back. “You’ve had your few minutes, now I’m afraid I’ll have to tell you to go. We’ve got plenty of other husbands whose wives are much further along who need to be in here.” She looked pointedly at the door.

 

Slightly dazed, Kíli nodded, kissed Safiyah’s hand briefly and headed out the door. He returned to the meeting he had abandoned, apologising for his lateness.

 

“Why aren’t you with Safiyah?” Thorin asked, his eyebrows knitting in concern.

 

“They said she’s not far along enough yet for me to need to stay. It’s quite full down there,” he replied, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding, full of a nervous fraught energy. He was about to become a father again, probably to a son, if Safiyah’s instincts were to be believed. He wondered if he was a good father to Míyah – was there anything he’d done wrong that he needed to change for the new child? They had decided on a name already, but what if the child didin’t like it? Don’t be stupid, he berated himself suddenly, slapping his side as if to shake him into sense again. A child couldn’t have an opinion on their own name.

 

In the end Thorin sent him out of the meeting, saying he was no use if he was distracted and that his heart was clearly somewhere else. “Go back downstairs and tell them Thorin Oakenshield ordered you to stay there,” he said, not unkindly.

 

Kíli wasn’t sure what else to do, so he did as Thorin had ordered. It had only been an hour, but already three of the beds had cleared and the flurry in the room had decreased significantly. Safiyah smiled when she saw him, grasping his forearm as he came close to give her a quick kiss.

 

“Any developments?”

 

“No,” she replied, sounding slightly breathless.

 

Kíli felt another thrill - of excitement? Of fear? - in his stomach and quickly quelled it.

 

His stomach lurched when Safiyah gave a keening cry, clenching the sheets in her fists and baring her teeth in apparent agony.

 

“Safiyah!”

 

“The pains are getting worse, that’s all,” she replied. She had always been one to downplay everything, especially her own suffering, but that merely made Kíli more anxious as he pressed a hand to her forehead.

 

“You feel warmer, I should get someone,” he said.

 

“No, stay,” she insisted quickly. “Where is Míyah?”

 

“I – I don’t know. Playing with her friends?” Kíli guessed.

 

“She should stay with Dís tonight,” Safiyah said. “I think – I was wrong. I think I’ll be down here for a long time.”

 

Kíli gulped and grimaced at the thought. Dwarrow births were notorious, and it was not uncommon for a labour to last more than twelve hours. Kíli nodded. “I’ll go and find them.”

 

Safiyah began to moan again, the sound becoming higher-pitched and reedier as they grew in volume. “ _It hurts_!”

 

Two midwifes bustled over at the sound of Safiyah’s cries. One undid the buttons on her tunic and pressed her hands against the bare skin of her bulging belly.

 

“Gosh, what a mover!” she muttered. “But… Finika, feel this.”

 

The other midwife joined the former and Kíli saw a frown cross her face before she quickly replaced it with a blank expression.

 

“We need another healer down here,” she said. Finika turned to Kíli, her expression still unreadable. “Can you fetch Oin? And his wife Alana. They should be in his clinic. Lufrak and Yeon have their hands full as it is.”

 

She was interrupted as Safiyah cried out again, pitiful peals echoing around the room. The two midwives immediately swarmed around her, Kíli was almost pushed out of the way but he gripped onto Safiyah’s hand tightly. He was at a loss for words as he watched the pain unfurling on her face.

 

“Go, Kíli,” Finika said through clenched teeth. “You’ve been here long enough. Get Oin, then go outside, get some air.”

 

Kíli was torn. The idea was tempting, and he was clearly just a nuisance where he was in the birthing chambers.

 

“Please,” she told him. “Go.”

 

Kíli nodded, still speechless, dropping a kiss to Safiyah’s hand before letting go. “I-I-I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

 

“Kíli!” Safiyah cried after him.

 

Kíli almost turned around, but rememberd the midwife’s words and began sprinting up the stairs, keen to get Oin and return as quickly as he could. On the stairs, Kíli almost bowled over his brother, who was on his way down with Aliyah. “Hey!” Fíli grabbed Kili to prevent him toppling over. “How are things?”

 

“Bad,” Kíli garbled, “I’ve been told to go fetch Oin and Alana. I think something’s gone wrong.”

 

“Where’s Míyah?” asked Aliyah.

 

“I need to take her to Dís,” Kíli replied. “She should stay there until all this is over. She can come and see her baby br–“ Kíli stopped, realising he and Safiyah had never discussed girl’s names, never even considered the possibility, knowing the unlikelihood of having two girls in a row. But having a for a first birth was rare enough – what if it _was_ a girl? And they were unprepared?

 

Fíli’s eyes encouraged Kíli to go on, but Kíli was staring into the space behind him with a faraway look in his eye and Fíli understood his little brother was panicking.

 

“I’ll take Míyah to Dís,” Aliyah offered. “They can both stay with us tonight; then Míyah will at least have some company her own age to distract her.” Fíli gave her small, grateful smile, nodding his appreciation, and Aliyah flashed him a quick smile in return before turning and heading back up the stairs in the direction of the main chambers.

 

Fíli noticed his brother still hadn’t moved. “Oin,” he prompted, tugging on Kíli’s sleeve and jerking him out of his trance.

 

Fíli and Kíli ran to Oin’s clinic. The doors were wide open as usual and Fíli and Kíli pushed unceremoniously past the other dwarves waiting on the benches. Luckily, none of them seemed to have grievous injuries, and all were too shocked and respectful to see their crown princes burst in with such alarm to protest as they shouldered their way to the front of the queue.

 

Alana looked up and put down her quill instantly.

 

“Is everything alright?” she asked immediately.

 

“N-I-I don’t know,” Kíli panted. “We’ve been told to fetch you, and Oin if he can be spared.”

 

“He can,” Alana replied, grabbing a leather satchel at once and beginning to stuff various sachets and bottles into it. “Oin!” she called.

 

Oin appeared and one look at Alana’s face and the brothers told him all he needed to know. He turned to the rest of his patients. “I’m terribly sorry to leave you all, but I shall hopefully be back within a few hours. Until then, please do keep yourselves entertained and don’t do yourselves any more damage!”

 

His words were almost lost to Fíli and Kíli’s ears as Alana was already halfway down the corridor, the brothers hot on her heels, by the time Oin caught up with them.

 

Twenty steps from the bottom, Safiyah’s moans could be heard. She hadn’t changed much since Kili had last seen her, but her face had grown paler and she appeared to have been sick.

 

“I think you’ll want to stay outside for a bit, laddie,” Oin suggested quietly. “Go for a walk, distract yourself for a bit. I’ll call you back as soon as I can. This may be quite traumatic and we don’t want to cause anyone any extra stress at this point.”

 

Black lights were blinking before Kíli’s eyes, and all he could see was Safiyah’s pleading eyes, begging him not to go as Fíli heaved him outside. The doors closed behind them, and as soon as he was outside, Kíli jolted awake. He started pacing, and Fíli could see the agitation growing in his eyes like a bonfire.

 

“Kíli, stay calm,” Fíli told him, but Kíli couldn’t stop.

 

“Was – was Aliyah’s like this?” he demanded.

 

Fíli hesitated. “No,” he said quietly, not wanting to worry his brother any more. “But Kee, birth has always been hard for dwarrowdams. Always. Safiyah is surrounded by healers and friends. She’ll be fine.”

 

The brothers sat outside the birthing chamber for over an hour. They heard the occasional sob coming from within, and Fíli could sense Kíli’s distress growing with every sound Safiyah made.

 

“I thought they said it was going to be _quick_ , _”_ Kíli muttered agitatedly through gritted teeth. “They said he was moving a lot.”

 

Fíli was at a loss. He also couldn’t ignore the overwhelming sense that something wasn’t right but he knew that wallowing in the fraught atmosphere outside the doors of the birthing chambers wasn’t going to help. “Come on,” he pulled at Kíli. “We should go outside. Clear our heads a bit.”

 

Kíli was still and silent for a second. But after a moment’s consideration, he nodded abruptly and got jerkily to his feet. They walked quickly but silently, both automatically heading for the gates that led to the mountainside. Kíli was glad to be with his brother. Born and brought up in the villages of Men in the Blue Mountains, few others understood the allure open space and sunshine and sky held for the sons of Durin or their reservations about the mountain. Kíli in particular sometimes couldn’t help feeling trapped, suffocated in the cavernous stone chambers, well-lit though they were by hundreds of windows, lamps, torches and candles. It’s beauty could be a torture, enchanting and enthralling, as if the riches would hypnotise you and leave you rooted to the spot. For now the mountain was steeped in tension, an anxiety that made his head spin with fear and his stomach turn as if he was going to be sick.

 

Kíli was glad for the respite, glad for the pines rustling, bathed in golden light that steadily deepened to orange as the sun hovered just beyond the horizon. The breeze seemed to refresh his mind, chase away some of his pain and worry.

 

……

 

On their return, several hours later, halfway down the stairs the sound of faint screaming could be heard. Kíli started forward, sprinting down the stairs. The howls got louder and worse as they got closer.

 

They burst into the birthing chambers. Oin and Alana were on either side of Safiyah. Her skin was ashen, she was pouring with sweat but as Kíli fumbled for her fingers, she felt cold and clammy. Her eyes were deranged, wide and flitting around the room at light-speed as she convulsed, her torso thrust forward as though she was retching.

 

“Kíli!” she howled. “Kíli!”

 

“I’m here!” he cried, catching her face in his hand and trying to turn her to look his way but she shook her head violently from side to side. She screamed again. “ _It hurts!”_

 

“Do something!” Fíli cried to Oin, but Alana was already shoving a hot mug to Safiyah’s mouth. She wouldn’t stay still, so Kíli grabbed her face, trying not to be to rough as he forced it still and tilted her head back to let her mouth fall open.  

 

“Hush, drink, _yasisith_ , please,” he whispered. “Please, please, please, I’m here, Safiyah, I’m here, do this for me please, it will help.”

 

Safiyah was mad with pain. Another convulsion wracked through her body, her mouth stretching in a wide, silent scream this time and she lurched forwards, knocking the liquid all over the bed.

 

Alana set about brewing some more as Kíli attempted to mop up the spilled liquid, but Oin halted his hand. “Let her smell the vapours,” he told him. “They will start to calm her, so perhaps by the time the next brew is ready she may be relaxed enough to drink it.”

 

The spilled tea gave off a heady aroma. Kíli couldn’t name any of the scents that assailed his senses, but the concoction of smells seemed to be taking effect on Safiyah. By the time Alana offered him the refilled cup, Safiyah’s head was beginning to loll in the crook of his arm. He held her head and poured the tea in sips down her throat. In minutes her breathing eased even more. Her eyes fluttered shut.

 

“She needs to sleep,” Oin commented as her hands became slack around Kíli’s fingers. “It has been sixteen hours for her already.”

 

 _Sixteen hours._ Kíli shot Fíli a worried look. How long had they been in the woods? How long had Safiyah been suffering, alone and without her husband?

 

“We can leave her for a while,” Alana agreed with Oin. “Although someone should –“

 

“I’ll stay with her,” Kíli immediately immediately, knowing what she was going to say. He couldn’t leave Safiyah now, after he had been gone so long already. He cursed himself inside. He should have insisted he be allowed to stay, he remembered the panic in Safiyah’s eyes as the doors had closed between them, remembered the way she screamed his name yet didn’t recognise him when he arrived, what if it as his absence that had driven her into such a frenzy …

 

Fíli knew his brother too well. He laid a hand on Kíli’s shoulder as Kíli settled into a chair next to the bed.

 

“Don’t blame yourself, Kee,” he said softly.

 

Kíli said nothing but reached up and squeezed Fíli’s hand gratefully.

 

“It’s late, Fee. You should go back to Aliyah,” Kíli said. “Go tell Ma and Míyah where I am. Tell them not to come down, and we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

 

In spite of his words, Kíli’s voice shook as he spoke. Fíli didn’t miss this. “Are you sure, Kee?” Fíli desperately wanted to see his family, and knew they would also be desperate for news, but he didn’t want to leave Kíli.

 

“You heard Oin, she needs to sleep,” Kíli insisted. “She’ll probably be out for hours. It’s fine, Oin and Alana are here.”

 

Fíli finally nodded. He dropped a kiss to his brother’s head and one to Safiyah’s clammy temple before leaving the birthing chambers.

 

Kíli stayed with Safiyah, doing nothing but stare at her wretched face, occasionally creasing with pain as she slept. The sight of her torment pierced his heart. She woke after about two hours, and Kíli was relieved that at last she recognised him. Alana brought some bread, cottage cheese and chicken, plain foods devoid of strong flavours so as not to agitate Safiyah’s weakened stomach and Kíli helped her eat. It was past midnight, and Alana and Oin retired to two of the beds at the end of the room to get some sleep. They drew a set of curtains around Kíli and Safiyah for privacy.

 

Kíli rested his head against Safiyah’s forearm, lying on the bed, occasionally turning to drop a kiss to her wrist or elbow. Safiyah peered through a crack in the curtains at the still, empty room, the only light a cold blue glow filtering down from the windows several hundred feet above them, and a few lamps.

 

“I’m the only one left,” she said sadly. “There were nine of us here this morning.”

 

“I’m so sorry I left you,” Kíli whispered. “I’m – _so_ sorry. They told me I should go to clear my head, I never meant to hurt you like that.”

 

Safiyah gripped his hand with both of hers and Kíli shifted himself onto the bed so he could wrap his arms around her. Her shoulders shook a little.

 

Time drifted sluggishly on. Nothing changed. Neither of them spoke. Eventually Kíli slipped from the bed and returned to his previous position on the chair, holding Safiyah’s hand to let her lie down more comfortably. She couldn’t sleep. They sat together not saying anything for what felt like an age.

 

Safiyah’s hoarse voice finally broke the silence.

 

“It’s been six hours,” she whispered.

 

Kíli was roused from the doze he had slipped into. “What?”

 

Safiyah’s eyes were filling with tears. She drew in a shaky breath and they fell, tracking lines down her cheeks. “It’s been six hours since I – since I felt him move,” she whispered. Her voice cracked on the last word, and she began shaking with silent, juddering sobs. Kíli barely registered he was on the bed again, winding his arms around her, one hand carding through her limp strawberry-blonde hair, dread filling the pit of his stomach with sinking certainty.

 

“It’ll be alright,” he assured her. “It will be fine. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

 

Safiyah cried harder, clutching his shirt. “I’m – sorry…”

 

“Don’t be sorry!” Kíli whispered, aghast. “You’ll be alright! He will too, don’t say sorry, what do you have to be sorry for?”

 

“I’m not – strong enough to do this, Kee,” she sobbed in hushed tones. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Don’t,” Kíli pleaded weakly, fingers tightening in her hair with thin desperation.

 

“He’s gone, I can feel it. I haven’t felt him since I woke.” The words were barely a torturous murmur. Kíli squeezed his eyes closed, trying to hold back the scream tearing at his insides.

 

“Please, _Mahal_ , please,” he muttered. They held tightly to eachother, squeezed onto the narrow bed as they both wept.

 

“It’ll be over soon,” Kíli whispered to Safiyah. “They don’t usually last longer than twenty hours.”

 

“It’s been longer than that,” Safiyah said, her voice sounded dry and wheezy. “Kee – I love you.”

 

Kíli’s voice stuck in his throat as he realised what she was doing. “Don’t  - don’t say goodbye!” he hissed fiercely, pressing his lips to her own. “I love you, you’re going to make it through this.”

 

Safiyah was starting to breathe more heavily. “I need – I need to you tell Míyah,” she said, eyes screwing shut and mouth twisting into a grimace. Kíli held her more tightly. “Tell her – _aah_ – I’ll never forget – _AAH..”_

 

“You’re in pain,” he mumbled. “I’ll get Oin.”

 

But before he could make a move let out loud cry tore from Safiyah’s lips and Oin and Alana sprinted towards them, tearing back the curtains. Safiyah lurched forwards, floods streaming from her eyes as she retched in pain.

 

Kíli blindly accepted the soiled blanket Alana thrust into his arms. He threw it into a corner and grabbed a fresh one from a cupboard by against the wall, everything was reeling, buzzing, it was all a flurry of blood and vomit and sheets and Safiyah’s screams and his own face couldn’t move from being frozen in shock, until he found himself on his knees, sobbing quietly, gripping onto Safiyah’s hand as she _screamed_ …

 

An hour later, after more blood Kíli had ever seen from a single living creature, Oin cried out that he could see it. Alana coaxed Safiyah to keep going, that she could do it, and Kíli knew he was being useless, crouched on the floor caught up in silent sobs while Safiyah heaved, retched and _screamed_ he could barely bring himself to look at her face as guilt whined in his head, _this is your fault, this is your fault, this is your fault_ …

 

Oin finally told Safiyah she was done, Kíli whipped around at Oin’s tap on his shoulder to accept the blanketed bundle in his arms, it was a boy, Safiyah was right, he leaned close to her ear and whispered to her, “It’s a boy, Safiyah, look, it’s Talí, Safiyah, you’ve done so well.” But Safiyah was staring straight ahead of her, eyes unseeing, unblinking even as Kíli shook her shoulder and called her name, his voice shrinking softer and softer as he realised it was too late. Oin and Alana watched him without words, probably unable to speak, the pain and grief embedded in their faces saying enough and worst of all, to Kíli, the overwhelming _pity_ there.

 

Kíli stopped calling Safiyah’s name. He looked at the bundle in his arms.

 

It’s face was purple. When Kíli put two fingers shakily to its full cheek, it was stiff, bloated. Not warm. Kíli turned his eyes on Oin, whose eyes were filled with tears, he had found his tongue and was now mouthing the words _I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry_ , or maybe saying them, and Kíli just couldn’t hear over the deafening silence in his head. Tears dripped off Alana’s chin as she pulled a sheet over Safiyah’s face.

 

Kíli couldn’t move, one hand clutched around Safiyah’s cooling, slick fingers, one arm still clutching the bundle that hadn’t been living for seven hours.

 

……

 

Kíli wanted to go and tell Fíli, his ma, Aliyah and Rinah what had happened but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the bundle or relinquish his grip on Safiyah’s hand. He hadn’t realised how long he had been standing, hadn’t heart the doors of the birthing chambers banging open, hadn’t heard the running footsteps until his mother flew at him, his forehead sinking onto her shoulder, and someone was taking the bundle gently from his arms and Dís broke the last remaining bond between Safiyah and Kíli as she pushed him backwards onto a chair and held him there, encased in her iron arms as Kíli’s legs gave way underneath him. The voices and muffled sobs surrounding him barely registered in Kíli’s brain, he hardly saw Fíli’s grief-stricken face, barely heard Aliyah’s open sobs as she leaned over her sister’s body.

 

Thorin’s chest obscured his vision as his uncle gently gripped Kíli’s shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. It was the compassion and pain in the supposedly comforting gesture were what turned him. He pulled back abruptly, glanced around, trying desperately hard not to take in anything except the door, suddenly wanting to leave, to never set foot in or even see this room, the _two of them_ , now gone to him, ever again. He didn’t know where Talí had gone, and he didn’t ever want to.

 

“Where’s Míyah?” he demanded. He had to see her, hug her, make sure she was still living. He realised he hadn’t seen his daughter for over twenty-four hours, the drowning guilt that swamped him redoubled, more pain washed over him as he thought of how the news should be broken to her and while he hadn’t seen his daughter for a whole day, his daughter would never see her mother ever again, nor the promised baby brother she had been so looking forward to meet. Before he knew how, he was halfway across the room, stumbling towards the door.

 

“Wait – _wait, Kíli!”_

 

Dís caught up with him. “Do you want Míyah to see you again for the first time like this?” she asked breathlessly. Kíli glared at her wordlessly, not comprehending, until he took in the teartracks on his mother’s own face, her swollen cheeks and her shaking breath before realising he must look a thousand times worse. He couldn’t scare Míyah by bursting in after such a separation, utterly dishevelled with wildness in his eyes.

 

He nodded dazedly, and at the top of the stairs turned right instead of left, heading for the baths. His mother accompanied him, scrubbing his back and massaging soap into his hair as Kíli tried listlessly to quell the mantra in his head: _she’s gone, he’s gone, your fault, he’s gone, she’s gone, your fault, she’s gone, he’s gone…_

 

He found Míyah an hour later in Dís’ apartments, playing with Frerin. When she caught sight of him, Míyah let out an excited yell. Aliyah, who had also cleaned up and was watching over the dwarflings, took Frerin and left the room, to give the father and daughter some privacy.

 

Míyah, blissful in her ignorance, gurgled happily, holding out her arms and toddling unsteadily over to her father. Kíli caught her before she tripped, hugged her tightly to him, breathed in her milky baby scent.

 

“Da has something to tell you,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yasisith : young wife


	11. Looking back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safiyah and Tali's funeral, and Kili reflects.

_Years ago, just after they married, Fíli had wanted to introduce Aliyah, the future mother to the new heirs of Durin, to Dain Ironfoot. They had easy crossing for the first half of their journey to the Iron Mountains, but after about a week of travelling Aliyah had taken ill and they had decided it was best that she rest for a few days in a small village of men and dwarrows that lay between the two kingdoms and continue the journey in a few days when she was better. Fíli and Kíli had gone ahead with most of the rest of the company, but had barely been gone a day when they had run into a group of orcs._

_By the time they had slain every last one of the abhorrent creatures, they could see smoke rising from the direction of the village where Aliyah and the few others who had stayed behind were. They raced back, galloping at an almost unreal speed, Fiii nonetheless urging his pony faster, desperation rising with every ­­­mile that flew beneath the pony’s hooves._

_The village when they reached it was deserted. Other dwarrows made to start dousing the flames still overwhelming some of the buildings, but Fíli could not be consoled, storming around the mounds of ash and charred beams that used to be houses, calling Aliyah’s name with a hoarse desperation and panic Kíli had never heard in his brother’s voice before._

_Kíli felt helpless, but he grabbed his brother’s elbow and was shocked to see how much he was shaking. When Fíli whipped his head around, he saw his mouth was moving wordlessly and his eyes were almost bulging. He looked wild and petrified._

_“Fíli, they would have had the sense to run, we should follow them.”_

_Fíli cut across him. “Kee, I don’t know what I’ll do if I’ve lost her, if she’s gone I’ve lost everything, nothing’s worth it anymore – “_

_“Fíli!” His brother’s babbling scared him and Kíli threw his arms around him and held him tightly, trying to soothe the palpable panic rising from Fíli like a restless aura. It was then that Fíli started heaving, breath so laboured it sounded as if it would tear his throat._

_“Kee,” he uttered, almost a moan, almost a whine – the only thing Kíli was sure of was that it was the sound of pure torment._

_Kíli had never seen Fíli have an anxiety attack like this. He was usually the calm when Kíli lost his temper but when Fíli did become worked up, he became a storm of rage and fury, like a balrog in his ire. He never reacted with this blinding, wild panic._

_They tore into the surrounding woods, scouring the forest, getting deeper and deeper, Fíli shouting, shouting, always one name – “Aliyah! ALIYAH!”_

_Fíli almost screamed at the sight of a tent and some figures in the distance. A red-headed dwarrowdam turned and Fíli began to sprint as if his life depended on it. Aliyah began to run too and Fíli caught her. She buried her face into his golden hair as he swung her round, then sank onto his knees in front of her, unable to control the sobs wracking his body as he pressed her hands to his mouth. Her face was equally swollen with tears, but as she slid a hand under Fíli’s chin to tilt his face up, their eyes met, the reassuring look promising him she was alright. Her face broke into a smile, eyes shining as she whispered_ \- I am carrying your child _. Fíli’s eyes widened, his eyes too filled with tears, he clasped her to him and they both began to laugh._

 

When he was younger, Kíli took the position that he had long given up on the idea of dwarrows having a single One – it seemed unrealistic that one other being could fulfil every need a person had. Fíli insisted quietly that there was such a thing, but if there was, then Fíli was the closest thing Kíli had to a One. Did a One have to be romantic love? Kíli wondered. He pondered if it was possible to have an unrequited One, assuming Fíli was right in that he and Aliyah had found eachother.

 

But then, Kíli’s mind wandered to a memory of years ago when Fíli thought Aliyah was lost to him when they had been travelling to visit Dain and run into a group of stray orcs – Fíli had been out of his mind, visibly destroyed. There had been something in his eyes that told him Fíli would end it all himself if Aliyah was gone, and it had scared Kíli, shaken the very marrow of his bones. In the bottom of Kíli’s heart, he knew it was at that moment that he had changed, that he had finally been convinced – _it was true_.

 

……

 

It had been four days.

 

Kíli stared blankly ahead of him. His eyes were blackened with lack of sleep. His eyes were dry from crying. He needed the time in shades of grey, so he left the mountain, leaving the safe haven behind Erebor’s gates and going to the place where the River Running hit flat land and began to meander its way across the plains to gather in the Long Lake. Kíli threw stones in the dawn waters. He didn’t crave isolation, but he craved silence. There was nothing he could say or do. It was done.

 

She hadn’t been his One, but she had been close enough. Kíli had had to close his eyes and keep his knees from buckling every time he thought of her, thought of _him_ , the dead babe and his dead wife. Guilt had drowned him every time he looked at Míyah, how he shakily asked Dís to explain _what had happened_ to her as he couldn’t bear to do it himself. He couldn’t bear think of either of their names, filling his head with buzzing to drown them out, push them away. But four days later, he was filled with a kind of numbness. He felt oddly normal on the outside, except for the hole punched through his middle, except for his daughter without a mother, except his heart which was so wrongly _whole,_ and the endless blankness he faced every time he faced the question that seemed to lie around every corner in the maze of his mind: _what now?_

 

“I thought you’d be here.”

 

Kíli turned, but from the first syllable he had known who it was. Fíli could be extremely quiet when he wanted to be. Or maybe Kíli had just been concentrating so hard on the sound of the river that he hadn’t heard Fíli’s boots crunching on the gravel and scree.

 

Kíli said nothing. He threw another stone in the water.

 

Fíli knew Kíli’s silences were worse than his tantrums.

 

“Do you come here every day?” he asked quietly.

 

“Yes. I always get back before Míyah wakes though.” Míyah and Kíli were both supposed to be staying with Dís, though it was clear that Kíli was not sleeping.

 

Fíli didn’t say anything else, but stood next to his brother and gripped his arm tightly. Kíli’s fingers curled into a fist around the flint he still had in his hand and Fíli encased his little brother’s fist in his own hand. Kíli turned and rested his forehead on his brother’s shoulder and allowed Fíli to hug him, eventually winding his arms around his Fíli’s waist in return.

 

“He was going to be called Talí,” Kíli muttered.

 

The name of their dead father hung in the air like leaden fog around them. Fíli pressed his cheek to the top of Kíli’s head.  

 

“How am I going to do this, Fee?” Kíli whispered. “Míyah… she’s only got me.”

 

“That’s not true,” Fíli reminded him gently. “This isn’t the same as when Da died when we were growing up. We’re in Erebor now. Míyah has you, me, Aliyah, Frerin, Dís, Thorin, even Dwalin, though he’s loath to admit she has wormed her way into his heart.” Fíli hid a regretful smile. “You are _never_ alone, neither of you, you hear me? _Never_.”

 

Kíli nodded and shuddered, but as he pulled away Fíli noticed his eyes, though red-rimmed, were still dry.

 

“I’m done crying,” he told Fíli, guessing his thoughts as usual. “It’s been… well, it’s been enough.”

 

As he turned to watch the sun rise over the distant Iron Hills in the east, Kíli didn’t voice the thought deepest in his mind. Fee and Aliyah had convinced him of its existence, despite everything he instinctively and wanted to believe. _She wasn’t my One. I can’t be that upset. That’s why my tears have run dry._ It sounded heartless, even in his own head, but he knew it was true.

 

……

 

Safiyah’s body was lowered into the stone tomb after the traditional seven days of waiting time and the customary rituals to prepare the body after death.

 

Kíli had watched with dry eyes as the small casket followed the larger one, each draped in a silver cloth to signify one who was taken before their time. He looked positively catatonic. Míyah was crying softly in her father’s arms. The caskets were simple at Kíli’s request, made of ash and engraved with runes of luck and peace to bless the dead as they entered Aule’s halls. Flanking Kíli were his mother, brother and uncle. Fíli had his brother’s free hand clenched in his own. Rinah stood by Aliyah’s side with Dís’ arm wrapped around her and Aliyah holding tightly to her arm. While Aliyah wept freely, Rinah blinked furiously; her grief was palpable. No parent should ever see their child returned to the ground, Dís always said. As Thorin began his recital Rinah closed her eyes, as though gathering her strength, and two tears escaped from beneath her sealed lids.

 

It was a short procedure. After a few ceremonial words were said and an appeal was made to Aule to welcome these two into his halls, the company dispersed. There was no wake afterwards, to eat or drink in fond remembrance. Everyone would much rather get back to their lives than linger on the unpleasantries and horrors of Safiyah’s passing. It was bad luck to linger on the deaths of those who passed before their time, as if it was contagious, as if such occurrences were so abhorrent they would literally not bear thinking about.

 

That night, Aliyah squeezed Fíli’s forearm. “Go to him,” she urged. “He needs you. Don’t leave him.” In spite of her broken voice, hoarse from crying, barely above a whisper, there was strength and force in her words, and Fíli knew there was no point in protesting. He could never thank Aule enough for the dwarrowdam who knew him better than he knew himself, was so selfless in her compassion and kindness.

 

He went to Kíli’s room and together they put Míyah to bed and sat by the fire smoking their pipes. Kíli rarely smoked, generally preferring to drink, but tonight he didn’t touch a drop. They didn’t speak much, but for Kíli Fíli’s presence alone was enough. When Fíli suggested they sleep, Kíli nodded. They changed into their nightclothes and lay on Kíli’s bed. Fíli hugged him as he had when they were children – it had taken Dís and Thorin years to convince them into separate beds when they were young, let alone separate rooms. Fíli pressed his lips occasionally to the back of Kíli’s head and eventually he heard Kíli’s deep breathing.

 

When Kíli awoke, it was with a new resolve and a steely resignation in his eyes that Fíli was both afraid and relieved to see. Fíli stayed with his brother for three more nights. On the fourth evening, Kíli said, “You should go back. To be with Aliyah. And your sons.”

 

Fíli appraised him, eyes sapphire in the firelight.

 

“Ma said I should move back to my old room, close to her. She thinks staying here isn’t good for me. I think she’s right. I’ll be fine. You should go.”

 

“Are you sure?” Fíli asked quietly.

 

“I’m sure she misses you,” Kíli replied in a similar tone.

 

“She’s been staying with her mother. They support eachother.”

 

“As you support me.” For the first time, a smile touched Kíli’s lips. It didn’t reach to gleam in the back of his eyes, but the sight of it lifted a weight off Fíli’s heart.

 

“I’ll go back tomorrow,” he agreed finally. “And help you move your things to Ma’s.”

 

“Thank you,” Kíli said softly. That night they slept with their hands locked together fiercely, and by noon Kíli had closed the door, wooden with its silver frame, and walked away with a sense of closure and finality in his heart.


	12. Epilogue... and Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili coping with life after Safiyah's death, and a new character appears on the scene...

 

Fíli watched his brother recover, and was surprised at how rapidly Kíli threw himself back into his own life after losing so much. Kíli had often had a tendency towards brooding, a stark contrast to his usual blaring positivity, and his family feared he would sink deeper into his own dark thoughts and isolation, as he had done after Loni left; but such fears were unfounded. He had bad days, when he remembered when it had been exactly one, two, three, four years since those awful forty-eight hours. When it had been five years, he did not forget, but he did not linger or agonize – he gave recognition to the momentous date with a glance and a nod to himself in the mirror, then proceeded with his day.

 

Kíli devoted all his attention unwaveringly to his daughter. He and Míyah had stayed with Dís for a long time while Kíli learned to be a father by himself, but having always strived for independence, he eventually moved himself and Míyah into their own chambers, though these were considerably closer to Dís’ apartments than the rooms Kíli had shared with Safiyah. Kíli didn’t know if new inhabitants had moved into those rooms or not as the doors remained shut, and he began to plan his routes around the palace to avoid passing them.

 

His days were not as filled with meetings as Fíli’s were, though he still attended too many for his liking. He spent a lot of time outdoors, either training, hunting, on patrol or with Dwalin, planning military strategies, as he knew as second-born it was his duty to support his brother endlessly, and one of his greatest strengths was his skills in battle. Eventually, he would take over Dwalin’s role as head of Erebor’s defence and the King’s Guard.

 

Miyah reminded Kíli a lot of himself at that age. She could be both bright and brooding and her stubbornness was matched only by Kíli’s own. Her charm and cheekiness had her praised and reprimanded in equal measure. At times Kíli thought he may also have finally developed an understanding for the muttered curse Dís used to utter after another of her rowdy sons’ mishaps: “One day, I hope you have children just like you!”

 

At the age of seven, Míyah had started lessons in Khuzdul, runes, history and arithmetic with the other dwarflings, and Kíli was sure she would start pestering Dwalin for combat lessons soon too especially when Frerin began his lessons. People commented that the two were thick as thieves (and they often lived up to this phrase literally). Kíli was glad Míyah had Frerin, both an age-mate and a friend, and of course, co-conspirator. He had given up on the possibility of ever being able to give Míyah siblings. Kíli determinately never thought of Tali.

 

 

Today, Kíli was happy.

 

He chased his daughter around the marketplace, not because she was being a miscreant and Kíli was in serious doubts about her personal safety, but he knew it was just a bit of fun. She was barely ten, but she had already figured out ways of winding almost everyone around her little finger. He occasionally indulged her, as he did today, giving her a head start as she ran away from him as he knew she would as soon the second they got to the market place. He too got lost in the thrill of the chase, enjoying their game far more than he would have readily admitted to anyone else (but then again, everyone who knew him knew Kíli had a dwarfling streak that truly thrived when he was around youngsters). Míyah looked back occasionally, cackling with triumph whenever she saw Kíli following her twenty feet behind, his face contorted into (what she didn’t realise was mock) concentration.

 

Kíli allowed her to have her fun for a few minutes, believing herself on top of the chase, before he increased his speed, longer legs easily catching up.

 

Míyah frowned when she saw her pursuer hot on her heels – how did he catch up so fast when he had been so far behind? She wasn’t ready to get caught, didn’t _want_ to go home. In a fit of genius, she ducked suddenly to the left, missing the long fingers stretching out to catch her under the armpits, burrowing under a fruit stall through a tiny gap all but a dog would have missed.

 

Míyah giggled in the dark as she heard her father’s footsteps come to an abrupt halt and his groan.

 

“Ah, you bested me,” he groaned. “Little minx. I forget how useful it is to be small.”

 

Míyah stifled her giggles, wondering if she could fool her father into thinking she wasn’t there anymore.

 

The cloth covering the table, which draped over the sides of the table underneath which Míyah was hiding, was suddenly pulled up. Míyah realised just in time that a conveniently placed discarded fruit tray was hiding her completely from view. She almost laughed aloud and gave herself away when she saw Kíli’s face suddenly stricken, frowning as he glanced into the tunnel she had undoubtedly ducked into. He sighed and cursed.

 

“ _Aule_ , now I really have lost you. Where have you gone, little one?” he muttered.

 

 

She was in a dress but she wasn’t happy about it. Merupe had shoved a small coin purse into her hands and instructed her to get the groceries before hauling her basket of potatoes onto her hip and heading to the palace kitchens to deliver them.

 

Meron scowled as the skirts gathered and bunched around her feet. This dress wasn’t hers, and not that she was too snobby for hand-me downs, but she did wish she had clothes that fitted her better sometimes. Her mother insisted that at least in public she dress like the dwarrowdam she was and her father agreed. Vargal adored his daughter, but he sometimes wished she wasn’t quite like her four older brothers Schal, Val, Tal and Cal – while they were growing up, it was like having five boys, with no feminine relief with Meron’s arrival. She flatly refused to do some of the things her parents told her and actively shirked her more ‘dwarrowdam-friendly’ chores, instead bribing her brothers into sparring with her and begging them to teach her the ways of the forge, though they drew the line at taking her into the mines, however much she pleaded. As the smallest, she had proved to be the most stealthy with a bow and arrow, a skill her parents later admitted they did not bemoan as she became the prime meat-bearer in the family.

 

The family had never starved, with five children capable of hunting and Vargal’s farm in the Iron Hills, but they had never had a huge amount of money to spare. Seven mouths were a lot to feed, and even now, with half of her brothers moved out and married, the family still struggled to make ends meet sometimes. Before Merupe had left her that morning, she had given Meron a secretive smile and pressed a few coins into her palm. “Go treat yourself to something nice too,” she whispered, and while Meron was touched by her kindness, she would never dream of spending any of their hard-earned money on anything for herself.

 

Meron had always known that she was not Vargal and Merupe’s real daughter. She pretended she didn’t, and they never spoke about it. But Meron remembered the crying, the sounds of chains, the suffocating proximity to the other dwarflings as they were shoved into an iron cage, and most of all an unbearable loneliness as she screamed for her parents, for anyone, to save her. But they were too far, their faces just another pair of sad, sallow masks amidst the crowd of dirty, discheveled, captured dwarves, there were screams all around her, she couldn’t even tell if some of the wails were coming from them. She knew that by now they would be long dead, and she had never looked for them.

 

She had always been a fighter. Even at the age of ten, she had wits enough to worry at the ropes binding her until they frayed, allowing her to slip her wrists through them. When they were let out in the evening for a measly meal and to sleep, she managed to steal away into the darkness. She made it four days before they caught her again, and though they punished her for her disobedience, in a way she was almost glad – on her own, she had been on the brink of starvation. It had been the food, or lack of, that made her resolve wither, forcing her to turn back and desparitingly wait by the side of the road for the slave caravan to pick her up again. They replaced the ropes with iron cuffs, linked together with a snaking tarnished chain.

 

Meron never forgave herself for allowing herself to be captured a second time.

 

She couldn’t remember her parents faces anymore, but remembered the night Vargal and Merupe had saved her. They knew the horrors committed by the men who traded in dwarrow lives, and undoubtedly the thought of a daughter, after four sons, was overwhelming, a chance too precious to pass up. The slavers offered her for a good price, though they usually never sold to dwarrows – “She’s too much of a handful, good riddance wherever she goes” – money clinking as it changed hands. And so began her new life in the Iron Hills.

 

She had always been small and was not chatty by nature; the slavers had told them she was four, so Vargal and Merope assumed she had no memories of anything, knew nothing about her real origins. But Meron did have memories; she mentally added six years to every birthday greeting she got, and never told her true age to anyone.

 

When she had grown up, the call came – Erebor had been retaken. Meron knew the stories just like anyone, and rejoiced with everyone else. The next day, she Vargal, Merupe and two of her brothers began preparing for the journey to the Lonely Mountain. She said a teary goodbye to Schal and Val, both of whom were married and refused to leave the Iron Hills, and left for the place she was told to call home all her life.

 

It hadn’t been easy at first, for their family, or for anyone. They relied heavily on the generosity of the people of Laketown and Dale before their own farms started flourishing. Meron remembered Vargal’s painstaking planting and sowing, willing his vegetables to grow; she left the city daily with her two brothers to hunt and collect food from the surrounding wilderness.

 

Erebor was restored rapidly. Over the years, Vargal’s farm flourished. The older dwarrows, who were born or had grown up on the Lonely Mountain welcomed back their old home, and even the younger dwarrows, nourished on stories of Erebor’s former glory, threw themselves wholeheartedly into life here. But Meron was not quite used to it yet, and found herself retreating. She avoided public functions if she could. She didn’t have a vast abundance of friends, though she was happy with the few that she had. She watched as they and the other dwarrows around her fell in love, married, and started producing vast amounts of children (King Thorin happily encouraged the repopulating of the mountain); she regarded them passively, not feeling any sense that she was missing out. She heard other dwarrows dreamily garbling about finding their One, and Meron scoffed at such notions. None of her experiences of love or romance had made her feel on par with the electrifying zing the other dwarrowdams fawned and sighed over.

She spent much of her time helping Vargal on the farm and managing the market stall with her mother **.** Meron rememebered one night seeing two young-looking dwarrows sneaking into Vargal’s orchard, making a midnight feast of his apples. They had scarpered at her shout and she hadn’t had a good chance to see them, but had she paid more attention to city affairs and less time in the open forest outside the city, she would perhaps have recognised the intruders as they shrank into the distance - the wavy blonde mane partnerned with the messy chocolate mop were hardly to be confused with any other pair of dwarves in Erebor.

Meron was startled abrupty from her reverie as said chocolate mop materialised suddenly before her very eyes. She blinked, and realised a dwarfling had just crawled out from under the cheese stall she was perusing and was practically standing on her feet. The dwarfling glanced up, gnawing on a strand of her own hair, before flashing Meron an impish grin and dashing off. Meron rolled her eyes. She had to admit, while she cooed and exulted over all the endless babies her friends seemed to be swamped with, she could not say she envied them.

Meron selected a few items from the stall and moved on before a glimmer of metal caught her eye and she halted. To the left was a stall heaving with glinting weaponry. Meron recognised one of the local blacksmiths and made a beeline for the stall.

“Why, hello there Meron,” smiled the friendly stall-owner,Oran ** _,_** who was used to seeing Meron poring over his wares. Meron muttered a reply distractedly, her eyes glued to a piece lying in the middle of the table. It was the most beautiful sword she had ever seen. It was not grand by any means but Meron knew she had fallen in love at first sight. _Oh it was beautiful_. Practical, it had a strong, lithe blade, and it’s hilt was wrapped in leather, finishing in a beautiful spherical pommel, left blank as if awaiting its name to be carved into the metal.

“Thought you’d like that one,”Orangrinned.

“May I see it?”

Oran lifted the sword and proffered her the handle. She took it and almost sighed in ecstasy as she felt its weight. It was perfect. She was itching to swing it, to teach it to dance with her and, to feel it flow like a river and soar through the air.

“How much?” she asked immediately. Oranregarded her regrettably.

“It’s made with the finest steel,” he said gently. “Can’t say I made it for you in mind… of course I can’t just give it away.

“Of course,” Meron replied. “ _How much?”_

“Wouldn’t you like something else, dear? I’ve a good array of fine blades here – you told me last time you were a dab hand with throwing knives?” he tried to distract her, but a look at her face told him that wouldn’t work.

Her face remained expressionless as he named his price. If she bought it, it would be the most expensive thing she owned – but _oh_ she had to have it.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” she told him, eyes sweeping over the beautiful weapon still in her hands – she couldn’t bear to put it down yet. “If I’m back with the money in three weeks, will you save it for me?”

Oran sighed. “I suppose I could consider it.”

“You _promise_ you’ll save it?”

“Only for three weeks mind!” Oran smiled. “In fact, if you come up with that much, I’ll let you have the scabbard for free,” he offered as an afterthought, and Meron beamed at him gratefully, one of her smiles made all the more heart-stopping from their rarity.

As she walked away, Meron guiltily pocketed the few coins her mother had given her to spend on something nice – she was sure Merupe had meant something else, a necklace or some pretty shoes, but she had bigger plans in mind.


End file.
